


Indelible

by 36and40



Category: Supernatural Adjacent - Fandom, Ten Inch Hero, Walker TV 2021
Genre: AU Families for Both Characters, AU characters only loosely based on 10 Inch Hero, AU characters only loosely based on Walker, Acceptance, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Boaz Priestly as played by Jensen Ackles, Bottom Priestly, Bottom Walker, Club Sex, Condoms, Cordell Walker as played by Jared Padalecki, Empathy, Exhibitionism, Exploration, Family Dinner, Family Responsibilities, Fingerfucking, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Intense Orgasm, Intense longing, Kilt Sex, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Play, Opposites Attract, Oral Sex, Priestly is younger, Priesty is gay, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Teasing, Sleeping Together, Supernatural - adjacent, Tattoos, Texas ranger, Top Priestly, Top Walker, Understanding, Uniform Kink, Walker is gay, Walker is older, bar sex, boutique hotel sex, cowboy, depending on each other, gay angst, going commando, kink around being caught in the act, motel sex, passionate kissing, piercing kink, rubbing off on the sheets, unlikely couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 56,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/36and40/pseuds/36and40
Summary: There's something that intrigues Walker about the man who works in the sandwich shop with the mohawk, piercings,  tattoos, and the intense green eyes outlined in black. They couldn't be more different. It could never work between someone as irreverent as Priestly and a Lone Star born and bred Texas Ranger. Could it?
Relationships: Boaz Priestly/Cordell Walker (Walker TV 2021), Walker/Priestly
Comments: 15
Kudos: 18





	1. Fucking Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> It gave me so much joy to write this. It helped bring me out of the sadness surrounding the beautiful but extremely painful Supernatural finale. 
> 
> I am not the first to write this pairing and I would really enjoy reading more Walker/Priestly stories. If I am fortunate enough to have any part of what I’ve written here spark the imagination of another writer – please use it, go for it, expand on it, and please post the result so I can enjoy the fuck out of reading it! I do not own any of these characters. I am only playing in this extremely fun sandbox. 
> 
> Priestly is Boaz Priestly as played by Jensen Ackles in the 2007 movie 10 Inch Hero. If you haven’t seen it, you should. But this is AU 10 Inch Hero – not conforming exactly to the character in the movie.
> 
> Walker has the appearance of Cordell Walker in the 2021 reboot starring Jared Padalecki. This is also AU Walker as I made sure to write much of the first part before the Walker reboot aired so that this could be my own interpretation of the character. 
> 
> I fell in love with these characters while writing this. There’s more to this story; a total of six chapters. I plan to post a new chapter every three weeks. 
> 
> SO MANY THANKS to the incredible Freckles & Dimples for the commissioned artwork for this piece. You always rise to every challenge beautifully. Your art feels like a reward for every chapter and contributes so much to the fun of working on this.
> 
> A bazillion thanks to my beta Valkyrie69. You REALLY got into this story and worked so hard, encouraging me to make it better. At this point, it is OUR story. I couldn't do it without you. You are invaluable when it comes to anything to do with horses and invaluable to me.
> 
> Lastly, thanks to the incomparable nyxocity for pointing me in the direction of the fake text message creator online after I first saw it in one of their works. It's too much fun.

_Fuck, it’s hot._ Sweat drips down Walker’s back as he securely latches the back gate on the horse trailer. It had been a very long drive. A full 25 hours all-told. Even with one overnight stop, it had been a grind, but he’d made it. All the way to the New Dawn Ranch outside of Santa Cruz, California. He’d just safely delivered the two horses sold to the ranch by his father. One an older, gentle mare that Walker deemed a very good fit for a ranch practicing Equine Experiential Learning and Natural Horsemanship. She’s of an age that put her at risk of being done away with by his practical and business-minded father, and Walker couldn’t stand the thought of her being sacrificed for a harder-working, younger animal. The second, a younger gelding with a great temperament, but no inclination for ranch work.

Walker _had_ enjoyed the solitude of the drive. Far from the bustle and unpredictable schedule of his day job as a Texas Ranger and free of the responsibilities and demands of his family’s ranch that always seemed to absorb every free moment, he could let his thoughts drift and his mind relax. He’d checked in on the horses regularly to make sure they were handling the late fall heat of the trip okay. The weather had been hot, but good. The journey had been uneventful and had gone completely to plan. He likes it when things go completely to plan.

Walker rarely takes advantage of the vacation days he banks. His boss is always pressuring him to “use ‘em or lose ‘em” and he thought he’d kill two birds with one stone and use his vacation on ranch business for his father. He wouldn’t know what to do with an actual vacation anyway. Sitting around doing nothing never held much appeal. There is always work to do.

“Thanks so much for bringin’ these beauties.” Walker turns to see the extended hand of Dawn, the non-nonsense woman with a long silver braid whose ranch bears her name.

“No problem,” he replies, shaking it heartily. “They’re good horses. I think they’ll fit in really well.” He’s happy knowing that they’ll have a good life here. Helping kids with autism and others with emotional scars learn how to handle the world around them with more confidence and live happier, more integrated lives. “You got a nice place here,” he praises, taking in the large, clean riding rings and well-maintained barn.

“We’re lucky to have a few big donors as well as lots of small ones,” Dawn replies. “Thanks for giving us a break on the price.” She rests her hands on her hips, smiling.

“You do good work,” Walker approves of the ranch and its programs. “We’re happy to work with you on the price. Penny and Trigger are both well-trained. I’ve worked with them myself. Shouldn’t take much for them to be ready for the kids.”

“I’m counting on it,” she replies. “We have a waiting list a mile long and these two will go a long way to getting more kids some help. You want something to drink before you go?” Walker’s sure she can’t miss the sweat soaking his shirt.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d better head out,” he declines. “It’s been a long drive and I’m pretty beat. Thanks for storing the trailer here.” You couldn’t easily park a horse trailer in most hotel parking lots in town.

“Anytime,” she reassures him. “Pleasure doing business with you, Walker.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” He gives her a nod and walks the short distance to his truck.

________________________________________

Priestly’s already annoyed. There’s so much to do. He’s working on prep for the lunch rush, back turned to the front door, attention focused on the counter in front of him and, seriously? They _just_ opened and someone’s already coming in? Who wants a sandwich this fucking early?

He feels Tish gently nudge his shoulder. He doesn’t break his concentration, evenly slicing the tomatoes into perfect, uniformly thin rounds. He feels her nudge him again.

“Kinda busy,” he tries to brush her off quietly. “Can’t you get this one?”

“I think this one’s for you,” she replies, biting her bottom lip to keep from smirking.

Priestly rolls his eyes. You’d think being the manager would have _some_ perks, but apparently, asking employees to do actual work isn’t one of them. He wipes his hands on his apron and turns around.

The man waiting a few feet away at the counter absentmindedly shifts his weight from one cowboy boot to the other as he squints up at the menu board. He’s clearly not from around here. In laid-back Santa Cruz his jeans look almost tailored. _Formal jeans._ The thought crosses Priestly’s mind. Western-style snap-front shirt with thin vertical stripes accentuating his impressive height, sleeves rolled up as if he’s about to get to work. Large hands that look like they could handle…anything. Strong forearms. Broad shoulders…Priestly’s eyes travel up…up… _damn, he’s tall_ …close-cropped stubble, strong, pointed nose, slightly long-ish hair and eyes that look… _kind_. A small smile flits across the man’s face as he looks from the menu to Priestly.

“You look a bit lost, Cowboy – you lookin’ for something I can help you with?” Priestly leans on the counter. No wonder Tish nudged him. The guy might be a bit older than Priestly, but he’s not hard to look at. Gorgeous cheekbones, slightly windblown hair the only thing on him that looks at all casual. Tan like he works outside. The sun-kissed skin sets off his eyes which are…some color Priestly can’t quite identify but would like to get a closer look at.

“Um, looking for a sandwich, actually,” he replies in a voice with a soft, low timbre.

“Then you’re in luck,” Priestly straightens up. “What can I do you for?”

“Um,” the man looks back up at the board, “is it okay to order something that’s not on the menu?”

“If I can make it, you can have it,” Priestly waits patiently. “Whaddya like?”

“I like smoked turkey,” Walker supplies.

“Alright. You like cheese and avocado?”

“Those’r good. I like spicy stuff too.”

_I bet you do._ “Got it,” Priestly says, mentally making a note grab the Cholula off the condiment shelf.

“White or wheat?”

“White.”

Priestly realizes that Tish is nowhere to be seen. He really doesn’t mind being left alone to carry the conversation, since it gives him the chance to find out more about this lost cowboy. “So, you in town for business or pleasure?” He slices through the freshly-baked roll and splits it open.

“Business.”

“What kinda business?”

“Ranching, well, my family runs a ranch. Dropped some horses off at New Dawn yesterday.”

Priestly pauses and turns around to look at the man again. “No kidding, that place is awesome. I know a few kids that go there and it’s really helped them.”

“Seemed like a good place,” the man replies.

“It _is_ a good place.” Priestly generously layers on some smoked provolone. “So you’re headed back now? Is home in California? Up north?”

“Texas actually.”

“That’s a hell of a drive.”

“Tell me about it. Gotta stick around for a few days first for the livestock auction. Dropped two horses off and hopefully I’ll be taking one back from the sale if it all goes well.”

“And you thought you’d plan ahead this morning?” Priestly sprinkles the avocado slices with hot sauce and presses the top of the roll down to finish it off.

“Food at those things usually sucks,” the man replies. “This’ll be a hell of a lot better.”

“I guarantee it,” Priestly sets the finished, wrapped sandwich on the counter. He grabs a bag of salt ‘n’ vinegar chips from the rack next to the register. “They’re on the house, if you want ‘em.” Priestly smiles at his customer who starts to fidgetunder his direct gaze. Priestly could swear he’s getting a little flustered.

“My favorite flavor. How’d you know?” The man smiles back at Priestly and Tish was definitely right with her lip biting and her knowing looks – sweetly passing this cute cowboy directly to him. The guy’s smile sure lights up a room.

“Lucky guess.” Priestly admits.

“Guess it’s my lucky day then.” The Cowboy’s steady, gorgeous smile makes itself at home on his features.

“Looks like.” Priestly gives the Cowboy his best smile in return and he thinks he detects a hint of a blush in the vicinity of those chiseled cheekbones. “That’ll be nine dollars even.” The Cowboy seems startled, like he forgot about the fact that he’d have to pay.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He reaches for his wallet and as he pulls it out, something falls to the floor with the clatter of plastic. “Fuck,” he curses, laying his wallet on the counter, turning and bending to retrieve the plastic hotel room key card a few feet away.

_Nice ass_ , Priestly notes. _Damn, those legs are long_. He glances down at the open wallet and is surprised to see a metal badge.

“Sorry,” the Cowboys says, putting the key card in his front shirt pocket this time and retrieving $20 from his wallet.

“A rancher _and_ a cop?” Priestly asks.

The Cowboy looks confused. “How’d you? – “

“Saw the badge in the wallet. Sorry, it was just laying there.”

“Not a cop, actually – Texas Ranger,” the Cowboy explains, hurriedly closing his wallet. “But I’m off the clock this week.”

_Damn. Those hands probably CAN handle anything._ “Glad to hear you’re getting a little time off. I hope you get to enjoy yourself while you’re here.” Priestly pulls the change from the register and holds it out.

“Keep it,” the Cowboy tells him. “Thanks for accommodating the special request.”

“Happy to serve those who serve and protect,” Priestly declares, “Ranger.”

“You can call me ‘Walker’.” The Cowboy replaces his wallet in his pocket and picks up the bag with his food.

“Well, Walker, if you’re in town for a few days, feel free to come back and see us again.”

“Us?” Walker looks around the deserted shop.

Priestly rolls his eyes. “There are some people who are SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING HERE!” He raises his voice so Tish, wherever she’s hiding, will hear.

Walker laughs. “It seems like you have things under control.” He narrows his eyes, focusing Priestly’s nametag, “Priestly.”

“I try,” Priestly smiles. The Cowboy, Walker, turns to leave and Priestly feels a pang of disappointment. “Have an awesome day!” he calls after him.

“You too,” Walker replies over his shoulder, long strides taking him _and his very nice, tight, jeans-clad ass_ out the door all too soon.

Tish suddenly materializes next to him. “Am I right or am I _right_?” she asks knowingly. “Hot, no?”

“Okay, you’re right,” Priestly admits. “Yes, he _was_ hot, are you happy?”

“ ‘ _Have an awesome daaayyyyy’ “_ she teases him.

“Shut up,” Priestly grouses. “It’s too early for me to be charming.” Tish just smirks. “You think you could help me slice up all this shit while you enjoy looking so smug?”

“Sure thing, boss.” She picks up a knife and finds a place to work at the counter a few feet from him.

“Not your boss.” He hates it when she calls him that. He’s a manager, but they’re a team at this shop. A family. Everyone’s opinion has equal weight. It’s how he runs things.

Tish gives him a sideways glance, grinning deliberately as she slices.

________________________________________

Walker’s not quite sure what just happened. What even _is_ that guy? It was hard to tell what he’d look like without all the ornamentation, but Walker’s fascinated by it. _You don’t see that in Texas._ Multiple ear piercings, a lip ring, a _neck_ tattoo. Eyeliner??? Hair an unnatural shade of purple and styled into a spiky mohawk. “Bad Vibes Don’t Go With My Outfit” printed in bold lettering on his green t-shirt that was, unbelievably, only slightly more of an intense green than his eyes. _You never know what you’re gonna see in California_. The whole effect was kinda stunning, if he’s honest with himself. Being a Ranger means having a talent for reading people, for trying to understand their motivations, and Walker wonders what possesses someone with such gorgeous lips and eyes to deck themselves out like that. _Yeah, you know you noticed those lips_ his brain supplies. Well, of course he did, he’s not blind. It’s his _job_ to be observant and notice details. And he inexplicably got free chips out of the deal. _Definitely my lucky day_ he thinks to himself as he walks the short distance to the hotel’s parking garage to retrieve his truck. He stashes the sandwich in the Coleman behind the seats of the pickup. He’ll be glad later.

________________________________________

Several hours in, the day already feels long and has been, so far, unsuccessful. He was outbid on several promising horses and wasn’t interested in the bulls, hogs, and other animals that were auctioned off in between the lots of horses. He hadn’t even attempted any small talk with the other ranchers who were either focused on the sale and competing against him or chatting amongst themselves with easy familiarity. When the mass of people, heat of the day, and lack of success threaten to sour his mood, he decides it’s time for a long-overdue lunch break.

Walker’s thankful to get back to his truck. Stomach rumbling, he closes the door, happily drowning out the drone of the auctioneer. He digs around in the cooler and unwraps the sandwich. He takes a bite and…damn. He must be extra hungry. It tastes amazing. That Priestly guy got the balance just right – smoky – _even the cheese is smoky_ – creamy avocado, and a lingering kick from the hot sauce. He’s pretty sure he knows where his first stop will be tomorrow.

________________________________________

It quickly becomes his pattern; stopping at the sandwich shop before heading to the auction. Walker finds himself looking forward to finding out what Priestly will look like each day. One day it’s a shirt with “I’m Not Rude, I Just Have the Balls to Say What Everyone is Thinking”. Priestly seems pleased that it makes him chuckle. Another day it’s “Sarcasm and Orgasm – Two Things Most People Don’t Get ”. Walker smiles and Priestly smirks. Another day it’s “Good Morning. I See The Assassins Have Failed.” Walker breaks out laughing at that one. And it wasn’t just the rotating gallery of shirts. One day the mohawk is tall and straight, one day it’s more “prehistoric” in a row of pointed fins, one day it’s even braided somehow, close to his head, right down the center and Walker thinks he looks like some kind of Viking. He also chooses that day to wear a kilt…a fucking _kilt_ … and somehow it looks right.

“Those things comfortable?” Walker asks, eyebrow raised, gesturing at Priesty’s kilt as he digs out his wallet. Priestly’s waited on him every time he’s stopped in and, after a couple days of friendly small talk, he’s feeling comfortable enough to ask.

“They sure are,” Priestly confirms, handing over his usual not-on-the-menu sandwich. “You should try one.”

Walker can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest at the mental image, “I can’t quite picture that,” he chuckles.

“I can,” Priestly says, voice somehow, more intense and Walker catches his black-lined gaze as he hands over the money and is he…is he flirting with him? _Say something!_

“Then you got an active imagination, Priestly,” he comments, feeling his heartbeat pick up slightly.

“You have no idea,” Priestly replies with a wink, gaze locked on Walker.

Okay, even _he_ can see, _that’s_ flirting. He’s flattered. He thinks the guy is nuts, but he’s also gorgeous in an outrageous kinda way, so Walker’s flattered. He finds two free bags of chips in his lunch that day.

________________________________________

On the fourth day, it’s clear to Walker that the sale is a bust. So far, he’s either been outbid or the horses up for sale don’t fit his criteria. By now, many of the other ranchers have gone home, their trailers loaded with their winnings, and Walker finds himself crossing the fairgrounds on the way back to his truck, defeated at the thought that he’ll probably be leaving empty-handed.

As he walks past the large fenced-in show arena, his attention is suddenly grabbed by a beautiful buckskin mare who’s currently competing in Cutting. He stops and watches with appreciation as horse and rider make it look easy to cut a young steer from a heard of cattle and keep it separated from the rest for the required two and a half minutes. Only the best cutting horses give the impression that they can accomplish the task completely on their own, displaying good cow sense that can’t be taught, and Walker instantly recognizes that this one is special. Her golden tan fur shifts over powerful muscles, her black “socked” legs start and stop and pivot and whirl with lithe precision, her black mane and forelock fly as her head and neck flow left to right in apparent anticipation of the cow’s next move. It’s an amazing dance of speed and skill. She’s attentive. She’s responsive. She’s perfect. Walker knows he’s found his prize. Problem is - this is a competition, not a sale.

Undeterred, he keeps watch as the owner leads the magnificent horse from the ring and rides her in slow circles until she cools down a little. Walker follows the pair out to the trailer village and loses sight of them for a moment as another competitor pulls out right in front of him, almost rolling across his boots. As soon as truck and trailer pass, Walker searches the rows of parked vehicles for “his” mare. He quickly spots her, tied to the side of one of the larger rigs and just catches a glimpse of her rider disappearing in direction of the bathrooms.

Walker walks up to the mare and announces his presence by speaking softly, admiring her stunning coloring and well-built physique up close. She regards him for a moment with intelligent brown eyes, without a trace of fear, and pushes her soft, black nose deep into Walker’s offered palm before starting to rub her head vigorously against his shoulder. He laughs as her strength causes him to stumble back a step and the mare whinnies as if laughing with him.

Walker’s still stroking and scratching the horse’s face and neck when the owner returns. He’s slightly embarrassed, having taken the liberty of petting a horse that doesn’t belong to him, but she reassures him that the mare, Daybreak’s Legacy, loves the attention. They start up a conversation as the owner unsaddles and waters the horse and hangs a hay net within reach. Turns out she’s a fan of New Dawn Ranch and likes knowing that he’s in California to sell two horses to them. They talk a little about Walker’s family’s ranch. How they operate. What he’s looking for. Then Walker goes for broke and makes her an offer for the mare. He can tell by the way her eyes widen slightly that she’s surprised at the amount, but she still drives a hard bargain, emphasizing that she’s put a lot of money into training the mare. She tells him that all of that effort is just starting to pay off in competition prize money.

Walker respects the owner’s tenacity, but his mind’s made up. He’s a decent negotiator and no pushover. He increases his final offer slightly and when the owner relents, they shake on it. He hands over payment in cash, accepts the mare’s lead rope, and walks with her to his own modest rig on the other side of the fairgrounds.

The horse follows him, willingly, snuffling at his hand and his neck and playfully bumping him in the back and Walker’s reminded how he’s always enjoyed horses more than people. Uncomplicated. You get out what you put in. You have to earn their trust, treat them as equals, but they’re incredibly loyal once you have that trust. He intends to gain a new partner in her. He decides he can’t deal with the fancy breeder name though, and contemplates his options… _Daybreak…Day…Daisy._ She becomes Daisy on the spot.

________________________________________

Walker’s inordinately pleased with himself when he drops Daisy off for the night at the New Dawn Ranch where they’d agreed to board her until his departure the next day. He even gives her a kiss on the nose before leaving. His father would be mortified. Though his father treats all of the ranch animals well, he considers horses to be commodities. Walker could never quite bring himself to see them only in those stark terms.

Work done for the day, he heads back to the hotel, stopping for a quick burger on the way, looking forward to a shower more than the food. It’s his last night here. He’d really like a drink. He could just make it easy and find a seat at the hotel bar. But…he’s in _California._ A place where being a gay cowboy lawman won’t get you beaten up. He doesn’t want to waste the opportunity.

He’s not the type for a casual hookup. He _is_ the type to enjoy being in a bar where he’s not the only gay man. It makes him happy to see other couples, even if that’s not something he himself feels free to enjoy right now. It gives him a sense of peace to see them openly living their authentic lives. It puts him at ease and gives him hope somehow. For someday.

He takes out his phone and does a quick search. He instantly rejects the nightclubs. He’s not a dancer except for the mandatory Texas-bred skills of the two-step and the occasional line dance. He scrolls until he finds a bar near the hotel that’s classified as gay. _This place should work._ It looks cozy and dark and _not_ like it’ll be playing music at a volume that will make his head explode.

He takes a long shower and changes into the one pair of black jeans he brought. Black boots. Decent white shirt with buttons instead of snaps. It’s not Texas, after all. Trims up his facial hair to just a close shadow and runs a comb through his hair. He’s not really seeking to impress. He figures he looks passable for a guy his age.

________________________________________

The bar turns out be as advertised. Small. Intimate. Relatively quiet in that the music isn’t earsplitting but the crowd is decent. He relaxes as soon as he sees several booths, occupied by men, arms around each other, some kissing, oblivious to everyone but their partner. He chooses a seat at the far side of the bar and absentmindedly waves down the bartender at the opposite end.

His phone buzzes. It’s Dawn at the ranch. No emergency, just a message he asked her to send letting him know that Daisy is all settled in for the night and doing fine. He appreciates the update, knowing she’s in good hands there. As he returns his phone to his pocket, his other senses inform him that the bartender is now standing, waiting patiently, directly in front of him.

“Damn, Cowboy, you clean up alright,” a familiar voice greets him.

He looks up, shocked. It’s Priestly. He does a bit of a double-take. His hair’s not purple anymore, it’s a rich green that somehow manages to set off his eyes. It’s in the tight braid tonight, close to his skull, the one that makes Walker think _Viking_. The complex design runs in an intricate pattern down the center of his head. Sides and back recently near-shaved. The tattoo and piercings are the same, but the eyeliner is even more pronounced – deep black all around with a thin line of dark green at the top. The customary t-shirt is gone, replaced by a sharp, silky dark gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the top button undone. Black leather cuffs around both wrists and a few thin silver ones stacked above the cuff on his left arm. He leans on one elbow, shifting his hips back, away from the edge of the bar, and Walker catches a glint off the shine of what might be leather pants. If he wanted a drink before, he really _needs_ one now, mouth gone completely dry.

“I, I um, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he stammers.

Priestly smiles, straight white teeth standing out in the dusk-light of the bar. “You’re not exactly the first person I expected to see here either,” he replies. He gives Walker a clear once-over. “Excuse me for a second,” he apologizes. “JUST A MINUTE!” he yells down the bar to another customer trying to get his attention. “That fuck is not going to shut up until I get him another rum and Coke,” Priestly says to Walker in a conspiratorial voice, as if they’re friends. He rolls his eyes. “You mind if I shut him up first?”

“No, no, of course not,” Walker tries to sound casual. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Priestly replies. He briefly grasps Walker’s forearm where it rests on the bar before heading in the direction of his demanding customer, raising his voice to call out, “Jesus CHRIST, I’m on my way already!”

Walker watches Priestly saunter away from him. The pants sure as hell look like black leather and they way they fit…fuck. No wonder the tip jars are almost overflowing and it’s still early in the night. The man who has possibly been flirting with him for the past several days just touched him on the arm a little longer than necessary. It could be nothing other than good, tip-worthy service. But…Walker finds himself hoping it’s a bit more than that. He’ll be leaving tomorrow and he’s more than a little curious about Priestly and his intentions and whether he was imagining things at the sandwich shop all week or if there’s something more to it.

Priestly returns in a few minutes. “Okay, where were we?” he asks.

“I was surprised to see you here,” Walker reminds him.

“Same.” Priestly regards him carefully. “I’m glad to know this is…your kinda place.”

“I um, I don’t get to go to places like this as often as I’d like to.” Walker fiddles with is hands in his lap. _Quit fidgeting!_ He sets them back on the bar instead.

“That so?” Priestly leans in. “They must have a few places like this back in Texas.”

“My job makes it kind of complicated,” Walker deflects. He abruptly tries to change the subject. “How much do you work?”

“As much as I can,” Priestly admits, taking Walker’s lead on changing the subject. “This one’s only part-time; two or three nights a week. You can’t beat the tips.”

Walker glances at the jar full of bills. “You must be good at your job,” he says, wishing he could think of a more charming reply.

“I’ve already emptied ‘em once tonight,” Priestly smiles. The pride on his face belies Walker’s surprised expression. “So, what can I get you tonight, Walker?”

_You could put your hand back on my arm. I wouldn’t hate that._ “How about a bourbon – straight. Your choice.”

“That’s ironic,” Priestly smiles, easily pulling a clean glass from under the bar and turning to retrieve a bottle from one of the lit shelves behind him. _Jesus Christ, that ass._ Walker’s drink can’t show up fast enough.

Walker notices Priestly reaching up to retrieve the bottle - it's not the cheap stuff. He doesn't care if it's expensive. He's in a celebratory mood after landing Daisy and discovering Priestly here; his now-familiar face is just the icing on the cake.

Priestly pours generously. "First one's on the house," he declares, sliding the glass across the bar.

"No way," Walker resists his generosity. "I've already eaten my weight in free chips thanks to you. I'm not taking any more money out of your pocket." Walker goes to reach for his wallet but he's stopped by Priestly's hand back on his arm.

"I insist." Priestly's leaning in, close enough for Walker to see the freckles across his nose. His hand feels warm and he's not moving it. Walker doesn't want him to.

"Uh, well, okay," Walker replies, flustered by Priestly's touch and the intensity of his gaze, "but you can't stop me from leaving you a tip."

Priestly gives his arm a firm squeeze before letting go, "Wouldn't dream of it," he smiles. "You gonna stay little while tonight?" he asks.

Walker finally gets his first sip of the bourbon and the slow burn bathing his throat in warmth feels awfully good. "Yeah, I'll be here awhile." He hopes the bourbon will help make him a little better at basic conversation.

"Good," Priestly declares with finality. "I'll keep checking on you."

"Good," Walker blurts out. He gets a warm smile from Priestly in return. "I mean, I'd like you to, you know, check back." He feels so awkward. "I don't know anyone else here."

"Don't worry, Cowboy, I'll take care of you tonight," Priestly smacks his palm on the bar before getting back to work, refilling the waiting empty glasses of the other customers.

Walker enjoys the bourbon and enjoys watching Priestly even more. The guy's a natural. Constantly in motion, he never leaves anyone waiting for a refill for long. He seems to take every request for every mixed drink with practiced familiarity, making them with efficiency and delivering each one with a smile. _His brain_ _must be a fucking cocktail encyclopedia._ Walker's never heard of most of the drinks people are asking him to make. He works comfortably with the rest of the staff, running the show and making it look easy. He makes sure that if he's been away from Walker's end of the bar for awhile, hands busy with other orders, to send another server in his direction with specific instructions and the jerk of his chin.

Walker’s relaxation level increases as the level of bourbon in his glass diminishes. He’s slightly envious of Priestly. So _himself_. He chats with the patrons and laughs easily with his co-workers. It looks like everyone loves him. _How could they not?_ He’s paying personal attention to Walker as often as he can. Never totally letting him out of his sight. Priestly seems _different_ here. In the low light, soft tailored shirt perfectly hugging his shoulders, fucking leather pants doing amazing things for the rest of his body. He’s less art punk and more _…drop-dead gorgeous._ The thought takes Walker by surprise. But here, without labels, without anyone else’s judgment, he finds himself strongly attracted to Priestly. He’s not going to over-analyze it. It’s _California._ It’s his last night here. If the alcohol allows him to accomplish a little flirting, he’s more than okay with that.

Priestly personally delivers a few unsolicited shots to Walker, telling him he really oughta try this or that, and it's apparent he knows his liquor. Subtle, spicy, smooth, everything Priestly sets in front of him is distinctive and good. He remembers that Walker likes "smoky" and introduces him to mescal though Walker insists he’s not big on tequila. He accepts it anyway. Walker can’t believe he’s never tried it before. The smoky notes make all the difference.

He paces himself. Tries to make sure that a decent amount of time passes between drinks. He can't get shitfaced tonight because he's got a long drive tomorrow, responsible for the beautiful horse he'll be taking home and he's not about to take any chances with her safety. He's able to maintain a pretty awesome, mellow buzz though, enjoying the way it relaxes his shoulders, self-conscious at the way it keeps a permanent grin on his face. Time flies and after a few hours, the bustle of the crowd starts to die down. He catches Priestly's eye and holds up his empty glass.

Priestly immediately makes his way towards him. "We do okay taking care of you tonight?"

"Couldn't've done better." Walker's Texas drawl is more pronounced thanks to the liquor.

Priestly glances at Walker's glass. "Can I get you another?"

"Maybe one more," Walker accepts.

Priestly pours from the bottle Walker decided was his favorite. He glances at the tip jar as he pours. "That $50 yours?" he asks.

Walker widens his smile, "I cannot confirm nor deny."

"You don't have to do that," Priestly returns the bottle to the shelf. He turns back to Walker and gives him what could definitely be interpreted as a flirty glance, _it’s flirty, right?_ “You haven’t even really gotten the benefit of my _full_ attention…yet. But thanks for the tip.”

"You more than earned it." Walker wants to keep talking. Wants to keep Priestly in front of him. He vaguely notices that the music seems louder because the noise of the crowd is markedly less. If he could take his eyes off of Priestly, he'd realize that the number of people around them has dwindled down to just a handful. Two of the servers finish organizing their work stations and Priestly tells them it's okay to go, he'll take it from here. They wave as they head to the back exit.

"Mind if I join you?" Priestly asks, setting two fresh shot glasses on the bar.

"Only if I can buy this round," Walker insists. "Thought this was gonna be my last one though." He holds up the bourbon Priestly just poured him.

Priestly fills the shot glasses with what Walker now recognizes as a high-end mescal. "I'll put 'em on your tab," he promises. "So, things go the way you hoped this week?" He leans on the bar and Walker’s hit with his full, focused intensity. Walker feels it across the surface of his skin like a wave of pure energy.

"Yeah," Walker confirms, swallowing hard under Priestly’s acute gaze. _Act normal for God’s sake!_ "Got damn lucky at the horse sale. Got a mare that'll work real well for the ranch."

"Well, good for you," Priestly smiles. "Glad to hear you found what you were looking for out here in sunny California."

Walker's warm from the alcohol and Priestly's undivided attention. "I did," he smiles a shy smile, holding Priestly's gaze. The liquor in his veins gives him the courage to add, "Even found some things I didn't know I was looking for."

Priestly's eyes are dark. Thin rings of bright green around dilated dark pupils. Low light of the bar smoothing out his clear skin even more, fading his freckles and intensifying the black eyeliner. He raises one shot glass, "To getting lucky," he toasts, raising an eyebrow as if to suggest the possibilities for getting lucky aren’t over yet.

Walker clinks his bourbon glass against Priestly's shot glass. _Damn he's hot._ "To getting lucky," Walker echoes, slowly sipping the bourbon as he watches Priestly throw his head back, downing the shot in one swallow, eyes closed.

Priestly smacks the empty shot glass upside down on the bar. "Fuck that stuff's good," he declares, relishing the taste.

Walker eyes the second waiting shot. "Can I buy you another?" He asks, leaning in, feeling drawn into Priestly's orbit, shyness falling away. He wants to watch it again; Priestly's full lips closing around the glass, throat working as he swallows the shot, wants to see him relax in front of him after a long night as the alcohol hits, wants -

Suddenly, there's a commotion around the pool table in the back.

Priestly's eyes fly open. "Oh fuck. Goddamit Jake, not tonight," Priestly curses under his breath.

Walker quickly turns to see one guy on his back on the pool table, a larger man with his pool cue across his throat, pressing down with all his strength while the guy on his back struggles to keep the stick from cutting off his airway.

Walker's already on his feet. "You got security here?" he questions Priestly.

"Yeah, but he had to bail early with a family emergency, so as far as security goes, you're looking at it." Priestly replies, voice tight as he rushes out from behind the bar and sprints towards the fight, Walker close behind him.

"You know this guy?" Walker asks as they close the distance.

"Yeah," Priestly says urgently. "Let's just say Jake's the jealous type."

Priestly doesn't hesitate. He grabs the pool cue from a startled Jake and yanks it away, throwing it aside as Jake stumbles, off balance. The guy on the pool table sucks in a gasping breath, grabbing at his throat. "Let it go, Jake," Priestly warns, voice menacing.

Walker makes for the coughing guy on the pool table, helps him sit up and tries to assess how bad his injuries are. The bloody nose doesn't look like much to worry about, but he doesn't like the way the guy's still wheezing, though at least he’s able to sit.

"That motherfucker was hitting on Jason!" Jake's face is red with rage. He makes a move to go for the guy again and Priestly steps in front of him, blocking his path. "Get outta my way!" Jake bellows.

“Not a chance in hell." Priestly doesn't move. "You're gonna have to go through me first," he threatens, icy edge to his voice.

"Fine by me," Jake says, stepping forward and taking a swing at him. Priestly easily dodges the punch.

Walker springs into action, moving in front of a Priestly. "Get that guy outta here and get him some medical attention," he says quietly over his shoulder and he thinks he hears Priestly helping the man to his feet, moving him towards the bar in the direction of the employee's exit.

Walker gets right up in Jake's face, close enough so he can't get a good swing in on him. Walker gives him a death glare and snarls, "You need to go." Jake must be pretty drunk, because even the withering stare and Walker’s decent height advantage don’t do the trick.

"And _you_ need to go fuck yourself!" Jake spits back, shoving Walker squarely in the chest.

Walker catches himself and stays on his feet, but the split-second falter creates enough distance for Jake to lash out at him with his fist.

Walker feels it connect with his cheek, followed by the immediate, sharp sting of splitting skin. It's a blur after that. He lets his training take over; grabbing Jake's arm and twisting it painfully behind his back, getting his other forearm around Jake's throat as he kicks his legs out from under him, following him down as he crashes heavily to the floor. He releases his throat and pulls Jake's other arm behind him, keeping him face-down with a knee to the small of his back.

Priestly rushes into view alone and stops short when he sees Walker on top of Jake who's now cursing at him to let him up. "Looks like you've got things under control," Priestly observes, sounding slightly proud. Walker rolls his eyes and gives a terse nod.

Priestly leans down over Jake’s head, "Do I need to call the cops, Jake? Or are you done being such a petty, insecure little bitch?"

"Let me up, asshole!" Jake groans.

"You're going to have to ask nicer than that," Priestly chastises. " 'Cause what you don't know, Jake, is you got six and a half feet of grade A Texas Ranger on top of you right now, so you might wanna watch your mouth."

Jake goes still. "That's more like it," Priestly says. "Now apologize to the man and you'd better hope he's in a forgiving mood because I believe you just assaulted an officer. I promise, you’ll have much bigger problems than someone hitting on Jason if our Ranger here decides to press charges."

The color drains from Jake's face. He tries to crane his neck to the side. "Uh, please let me up," he asks quietly.

Priestly stands and winks at Walker. " ‘Please let me up' what?"

"Please let me up...sir." Jake mumbles.

Walker has to stifle a laugh at Priestly taking the extra step to inflict a little humiliation. He clears his throat, shoving down the laugh and replacing it with his most authoritative Ranger tone of voice. "You plan on causin' any more trouble here Jake?"

"No...sir," he replies.

"I let you walk outta here, you're never gonna cause trouble here again, right?"

"Yes sir."

"You keep you word Jake, or I'll come find you." Walker winks back at Priestly. "You understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm gonna let you up now. If you make one wrong move, I swear to God I'll lay you out. You got that?"

"Yes sir."

Walker releases his hold and Jake struggles clumsily to his feet. "Now get the fuck out of here," Priestly orders. "I don't wanna see you back in this bar for a couple of months. Maybe use that time to make it up to Jason for embarrassing him like you did tonight."

Jake nods without a word, looking sheepishly towards Jason. "Don't even," Jason stops any apology from Jake before it can start and heads for the door, Jake following like a puppy being punished.

The last few stragglers in the bar all made for the exit when the fight started. Walker and Priestly are the only ones left, music fully audible in the quiet.

When the door closes behind Jake and Jason, Priestly locks it and turns to Walker. "That is not how I wanted this shift to end," he admits, suddenly looking tired.

Walker breaks the brief silence. “ ‘Grade A Texas Ranger’?” He smirks at Priestly.

“I was improvising, alright?” Priestly breaks into a weary grin.

"Fights like that happen often?" Walker asks.

"Thankfully, no," Priestly sighs, turning to head back towards the bar. "We try to never over-serve that guy. Must've gotten busy and dropped the ball." Priestly glances at Walker's face and stops cold. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Walker brushes off his concern.

Priestly steps closer. "I hate that Jake got a shot in on you." Priestly examines the shallow cut on Walker’s cheek. "Damn that fucking ring he wears."

"It'll be okay. It's not bad," Walker assures him, wincing as he touches the cut and pulls away bloody fingers.

"Don't do that," Priestly chastises him. "It'll get infected if you keep touching it."

Walker looks down to find a few drops of blood on his shirt.

"Get over here," Priestly grabs his wrist and pulls him around the bar until they're both standing behind it. He takes a second to turn down the music as they pass the flashing lights of the bar’s sound system.

"Really, it's okay," Walker insists, fidgeting under Priestly's attention.

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Priestly observes. "I said I'd take care of you tonight so fucking hold still so I can keep that cut from getting infected." Priestly rummages around under the bar and pulls out a first aid kit. "It's the least I can do. You just saved this place at least a thousand dollars in property damage."

Walker stills. Priestly washes his hands, wets a clean towel, and carefully wipes the blood from his cheek. Walker winces.

"Almost got you cleaned off." Priestly pulls a small bottle of rubbing alcohol from the kit. "We made a pretty good team back there," he comments, soaking a dry corner of the towel with the alcohol.

"You didn't hesitate," Walker replies. "That took balls."

Priestly shrugs. "Just part of the job," he says, closely inspecting the cut. "This is gonna sting."

"Bring it," Walker smiles, then curses as the alcohol burns.

"That's the worst of it," Priestly declares. "Hang on." He grabs some antibacterial ointment and a couple small butterfly bandages. He puts some ointment on a cotton swab from the kit and gently applies it by rolling it along the length of the cut.

Their faces are inches apart. Priestly's breath mixing with Walker’s, warm and sharp with alcohol. He carefully applies a few butterfly bandages. "I think you'll live," he declares, smiling warmly. He doesn't move away.

Walker watches Priestly’s lip ring. Glances up to find Priestly's eyes waiting for him. Dark and intense. Suddenly feels a hand, warm and reassuring behind his neck, the hard maple of the bar a solid line across his lower back as he leans heavily against it. He feels trapped in the best kind of way. Priestly's lips are moving. Walker tries hard to focus on what he’s saying. "You were pretty badass out there tonight." Priestly's gaze drops to Walker's lips, then back up to lock onto his eyes again. "It was…kinda hot."

"Yeah?" Is all Walker can think to say and he feels Priestly drawing him in like a magnet, finds himself leaning down as Priestly stretches up.

"Yeah," Priestly replies, giving him one more second to resist, but he can't. He doesn't want to.

Priestly's lips meet his in a crush of plush flesh punctuated by the firm metal of the lip ring pressing into his lower lip, followed immediately by the strong surge of Priestly's tongue, hand behind his neck firm and encouraging.

Walker slides one arm around Priestly's waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angling his mouth up so Walker can drive his tongue down. He feels Priestly suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock.

He pulls Priestly tight against him, notices the unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh, feels Priestly start to move against him, seeking out friction for his growing hard on and Walker feels like he's about ten steps ahead of him, his own cock straining inside his black denim.

Suddenly, Priestly's hand leaves his neck and he finds his shirt being untucked, shivers as Priestly's touch snakes over his abs, up his chest, fingers brushing over a nipple rendering it instantly hard and making him moan into Priestly's mouth. Hands change direction, heading south, and Walker registers fingers working his belt buckle. In that moment, he knows exactly what he wants. Something he hasn't done in a long time, but something he’s thoroughly enjoyed doing ever since some of his earliest experiences with other guys.

He pulls back breathlessly from the kiss. "You took care of me," he rasps out, "wanna take care of you." Priestly gives him a questioning look, lips kissed to a dark pink, breathing heavily. "Just do what I say," Walker directs. Then, more gently, "Let me, okay?"

Priestly nods quickly in agreement.

Walker releases Priestly’s head and sinks down to his knees in the confined space between the bar and Priestly's body.

"Jesus Christ," Priestly swears, hands on Walker's shoulders as he goes down. He watches him intensely, lust-blown pupils tracking him.

Walker looks up. "Shirt," he says in a firm voice and Priestly's hands fly to the buttons on his supple gray long sleeve. Walker hungrily watches his abs, then his chest reveal themselves button by button. Smooth skin over lithe muscle and hard peaks of darker nipples. Light sprinkle of freckles across his hairless chest. Walker drinks him in.

"Now spread 'em," He nudges Priestly's knee with his elbow then runs his hands up his thighs. He feels the heat of his body even through the leather of the pants as Priestly plants his feet further apart. Walker lets one hand come to rest on a thigh, the other on the bulge at the younger man’s crotch and he starts stroking with slow, even pressure. Priestly closes his eyes and rocks his hips into Walker's palm.

"Yeah, that's it, now take it out for me," Walker moves his hand to Priestly's other available thigh, regarding the intricate lacing stretched over what promises to be a sizeable erection.

Priestly's hands leave Walker's shoulders and start working to open the laces that fill in for a zipper on his pants. Walker revels in watching him, the way that he works fast to get them open giving him a hint as to just how turned on Priestly is. Walker takes the opportunity to quickly open his own jeans, relief instantaneous as he frees his own cock, briefs straining over his hard length. He never takes his eyes off Priestly.

Priestly sighs as he lays open his fly, lacing on the leather loose to just below the spot where his hard cock fills the pouch of his black briefs.

"All the way," Walker directs. "Wanna see you."

Priestly hooks his thumbs over the waistband of the sleek fabric and pulls it up and over the crown of his cock, glistening precome glosses the wide head. He stretches them down, tucking the band behind his balls. His thick cock juts out of the open black "V" of the leather pants. Hair around the base trimmed short - as carefully and precisely as his facial hair, balls clean-shaven. "Got me so fucking turned on right now," Priestly confesses, and Walker feels luckier than he has all day, on a day already luckier than most.

"Put your hands on the bar," Walker orders and Priestly instantly complies, bracing himself on his hands, leaning forward slightly over Walker's kneeling form. Walker looks up to find Priestly's ravenous gaze watching his every move. He closes his eyes, nuzzles at Priestly's balls with his nose, breathing him in. A night spent on his feet encased in leather ensures he has a strong musky smell, hint of the tanned hide of the pants, the faint suggestion of the body wash he probably used hours ago, sharp tang of sweat. Walker keeps his large hands spanning each of Priestly's strong thighs and uses his tongue to firmly trace the seam up the center of his balls.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Priestly swears above him. Walker lets his tongue travel to the base of Priestly's cock and works his way up, slippery precome meeting him halfway, flowing down Priestly's shaft as Walker works against the flow. It's faintly sweet, and Walker flattens his tongue, spreading the taste across the surface, making everything even more slippery. He can tell it's taking all of Priestly's willpower to hold still and let him work, muscles of his thighs tense and jumpy under his hands.

He rises fully up on his knees, tonguing under the crown. Priestly moans and rocks his hips forward, unable to hold still anymore and Walker opens up, letting the head of Priestly's cock slide past his lips. He holds him on his tongue, lets him fill his mouth, taste of clear fluid intoxicating.

"Oh fuck yes," Priestly presses in steadily. Walker molds his mouth to Priestly's cock as the head searches out the back of his throat, his lips tight around the thick base as he sucks. " _Oh fuck!_ " Priestly swears again and pulls back before he starts moving in and out of Walker’s mouth, somewhat tentatively. Walker grabs Priestly’s leather-clad ass, a handful in each palm, encouraging him to take what he needs. He relaxes his throat, feels Priestly pick up the pace, starting to thrust in earnest, and lets him drill down deep. He savors the way texture of the prominent veins wrapping his shaft glide back and forth over his tongue with increasing speed.

The feel and smell and taste of Priestly, the way his body moves, flowing with the undulations of his hips in a steady, even rhythm, curses of pleasure raining down on him from above, it all conspires to make Walker feel like he’s being given permission to enjoy it too and he doesn't even realize he's thrusting his own hips, trying to rub himself off against the taut fabric of his briefs. Moving in time with Priestly.

Priestly looms over him, arms shaking, head hanging down, eyes fastened on Walker's mouth and the slick embrace and release of his lips around his cock. "Oh fuck, _FUCK_ I'm gonna come," he warns, voice so deep Walker barely recognizes it. His senses feel assaulted and it’s hot as hell and Walker's right there with him, his own cock pressed against his stomach, head poking above the waistband that's pinning it there as the band rubs up and down his length with the motion of his hips.

Walker can't fit Priestly's entire length in his mouth anymore, so hard, stretched to maximum size and he knows he's about to let go. He quickly pulls off, replacing his lips with his hand, stroking hard twice before Priestly throws his head back, shooting thick and creamy onto his own stomach, coating Walker's stroking hand, gasping and cursing. Walker finally closes his free hand around himself, tugging his briefs below his own sack for easy access.

The rapid-fire spasms of Priestly’s orgasm start to wane, hot release down to a trickle over Walker’s stroking hand, so he loosens his grip, bringing the intensity down a notch. Walker realizes Priestly’s watching him again. "Yeah, fuck, stroke that huge cock," he encourages. "God, you're big. So fucking hot."

Walker lets go of Priestly, leans forward, presses the side of his face against the leather of his thigh, switches hands, left holding on to the back of Priestly’s firm quad as he furiously strips his cock with his right. "Yes, yes, _fuck yes_ ," he gasps, surging into his tight fist, balls full, everything building and building and he's abruptly coming hard, clinging to Priestly for dear life, blowing his load in streaks of come that splatter across the black leather in stark white lines.

Walker feels Priestly's fingers carding gently through his hair as he shudders and milks his cock until there's nothing left. He's vaguely aware of something falling softly on his shoulder and hazily recognizes it as a clean bar towel. Walker sits back on his heels, spent cock laying in a long line down his thigh, Priestly's hanging thickly in front of his face before the view is replaced by an open gray shirt revealing a strip of muscled chest glistening with sweat, then two intense green eyes as Priestly gets down on his knees in front of him, softly gripping his chin and pulling him in for a slow, burning hot, luxurious kiss.

Priestly leans back slightly and Walker chases his lips before he realizes he pulled back to say, "Damn, Cowboy, you got one hell of a talented mouth on you." Walker feels color rise in his cheeks at the compliment. Priestly picks up the towel. "Now let me?"

Walker nods, exhausted but sated, knees screaming from being in one position for so long and he doesn't even care. Priestly carefully cleans them both up, pulls Walker to his feet, and they tuck themselves back in. Put themselves back in some semblance of order, cleaning as much off their own clothes as they can. As Walker reassembles himself, he feels some of the usual shyness seeping back in, but when Priestly stops to pull him in for several more kisses, he goes willingly each time.

“I think I should go wash up.” Walker gestures to the bathroom.

“Take the employee bathroom,” Priestly tells him, pointing to a nondescript door to the side of the bar. “It’s better.”

When Walker returns, Priestly’s drying his hands on a new towel and there are two glasses set out, each with a finger of bourbon. Walker raises an eyebrow. "It's our best stuff," Priestly explains, and walks around to the front, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. "Join me?"

They sit on the stools on the same side of the bar. Priestly rests his hand on Walker's thigh. They sip the bourbon in easy silence.

Walker clears his throat. "I hate to ask this, but you got a security camera in here?"

Priestly breaks into a grin, "Sure do, why?"

"Uh, I can't have that recorded. You know…with my job."

Priestly just smiles steadily at back at him.

"What?" Walker asks.

"As much as I'd love to watch that on an endless loop, don't worry. The security camera actually broke last week. They were supposed to fix it today but the guy never showed. It's unplugged back there if you want to see for yourself."

"I trust you," Walker replies with certainty.

"You can," Priestly confirms, raising his glass to take the last swallow. "Guess we got lucky all around."

"I know I did," Walker replies, clinking his glass against Priestly's. He smiles easily, feeling warm and relaxed, enjoying Priestly's answering satisfied grin.

"Think you'll stop by the shop on your way outta town tomorrow?" Priestly asks after downing his first swallow of bourbon. Walker thinks he sounds...hopeful.

"Definitely," Walker confirms. "Thanks for taking such good care of me tonight, Priestly."

"Right back at ya, Cowboy."

“Hey, sorry about your pants,” Walker bumps Priestly’s shoulder.

“You kidding? It was totally worth it. Don’t worry. I have an excellent dry cleaner.”

“Can I at least help cover the cost?”

Priestly shakes his head, “Absolutely not. Dry cleaning is small price to pay for…that. I should be the one paying you.” He smiles wickedly. “I fucking enjoyed every minute of it.”

________________________________________

Walker pulls over to check on Daisy after several hours of driving. He retrieves his sandwich from the cooler and unwraps it. The wrapper looks different. Name, address, and phone number of the shop printed across it in a repetitive pattern like usual, exploiting every opportunity for free advertising, but there’s some neat black writing in the lower corner. He squints at it:

“Safe Travels, Cowboy. Last night was hotter than a bottle of Cholula. - Boaz Priestly".

He stares at the wrapper. This exotic, charming younger man with what he’s just learned is a fittingly unique first name had apparently found being with _him_ hot. Last night was the most intense thing Walker had experienced in years, but his face warms to know he isn’t the only one who thought so.

He has the sudden urge to hold onto last night for awhile. That feeling of freedom. That natural give and take. A small reminder that sometimes, it _can_ feel that good, be that easy.

He sets his sandwich on a napkin that he unfolds to protect the passenger seat and carefully smooths out the wrapper over the center console. He folds the heavy paper back and forth until he can tear it in straight lines, fishes out his wallet, and places the note in the most secure interior pocket.

He really did get fucking lucky last night.

******

Link to the Twitter account of the amazing artist for this story, Freckles & Dimples

[Freckles & Dimples on Twitter](https://twitter.com/freckleNdimple)


	2. Fuck Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walker can't get Priestly out of his mind, even three months after his short working vacation in California. It scares him, but if he doesn't take a risk, nothing will change.

**Chapter 2:** **Fuck Normal**

Walker rubs his finger over the frayed corner of the small square of heavy paper. It’s soft and rounded. Printed advertising starting to fade, unlike his memory of that night. It’s the wrapper from the sandwich shop with Priestly’s handwritten note. He holds the invaluable artifact in his hand, flipping the corner back and forth between his fingers as he stares at the tiny phone number printed across the surface, the same way he has once a day for the past three months. He’ll probably just put it back in his wallet, just like he has every other time – ever since he got back from his working vacation in California. _You chicken shit._ His brain taunts him. He swallows hard and thinks that maybe he should just stop torturing himself. Let the wind snatch the note from his fingers - make the decision for him the next time he’s driving the interstate with his windows down. Let it go. Move on. Focus on his life and his family here in Texas. His father. His brother. Helping around the ranch when he’s not on the job.

But it had been three months, and this had become his routine. His daily ritual. Remembering the man with the mohawk and the green eyes and the piercings. A man so secure in who he is that he doesn’t hide it for anyone else’s benefit. _So fucking brave,_ Walker thinks. He thinks of Priestly like this every day – every time he touches the note. People assume bravery is required in order to earn the badge he carries, but he’s a coward compared to Priestly and he knows it. He thinks he could learn a lot from someone with Priestly’s kind of bravery.

_Let it go – you know it can never work._ “Shut up,” Walker says aloud in the quiet of his truck cab, parked under a live oak, far enough out on the property that no one else can hear him.

He squints at the fading phone number as if he hadn’t memorized it that first week back in Texas. There’s one thing he could do to change this routine. One thing he could do if he were brave like Priestly. He could actually call this time. The possibility alone almost induces panic, but the alternative is this endless, yet comfortably familiar limbo of fantasy and regret. Yet the part of himself that’s been denied a full life thanks to fear and tradition and the societal expectations of his hometown won’t allow him to let the scrap of paper go.

This is going to take every ounce of determination he possesses and, if he dials wrong, he may never get up the nerve to try again.

Walker takes one more look around. One more chance to put the note back in his wallet and make this day the same as the last 90. Predictable, secure, safe.

He dials instead.

“Ten Inch Hero – best ten inches you can put in your mouth. What can I do you for?” comes the irreverent voice on the other end of the line.

Walker can’t help but smile. “I highly doubt it’s the best ten inches you can put in your mouth.” He lets his natural Texas drawl filter through more than he usually would and the flirty response escapes him before he can stop it. He immediately starts to regret it when he’s met with complete silence – the faint rock music in the background of the sandwich shop hundreds of miles away the only indication that Priestly hasn’t hung up on him.

Priestly clears his throat, “Fuck, is that you, Cowboy?” Walker’s heart pounds in his chest, incredulous that Priestly somehow recognizes his voice. He sounds…happy to hear from him, though Walker doesn’t trust his own finely-tuned ability to read people where Priestly is concerned; his own desire interfering with his years of objective training. “You back in town? Calling for the usual? It’s been awhile but I still remember your order. How the fuck are you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Cordell. I mean, Walker.” He never uses his first name. Why does he want to tell Priestly his first name? “Um, not back in town,” he pauses. Why is he even calling? What the hell is he hoping for with more than a day’s drive between them? He doesn’t know what to say next.

“Okaaay…Walker, if you’re not back in town, I hate to tell you that Texas is a bit outside of our delivery area.”

“I uh, I’m not calling about food.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You okay, man?”

No, no he is not okay. This was a huge mistake. What he had with Priestly had been a hot, improbable one-night stand. Nothing more. Obviously he’s the only one who’s been pining for months, wasting time wondering if that night might have meant more to Priestly too.

“Hello?” Priestly prompts, concern evident in his voice.

“This was a mistake.” Stress-induced heartburn rises in Walker’s chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking calling you.” Breaking out in a sweat he mumbles, “Sorry to waste your time,” and hangs up.

He drops the phone on the empty seat next to him and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. _You complete idiot!_ His brain readily supplies the sabotage like always.

His phone buzzes.

The number he’d memorized appears on the screen.

_Let it go._

He grabs the phone with a shaky hand. “Hello?”

“I’m not exactly used to having guys I’ve been with hang up on me.” Priestly’s voice is absent the hint of concern. “So I’m thinking you called me out of the fucking blue for a reason. Spill it.”

“I, I um.”

“I ain’t got all day,” Priestly’s impatience is unmistakable.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Walker forces the words out. “About you.”

There’s another long pause. Walker holds his breath, sure that this gamble is about to go south, fast. Hating himself for even _hoping._ If he hadn’t called, at _least_ he could have held onto the fantasy. When Priestly speaks again, the impatience is gone and he sounds like he might even be smiling. “Then I’d say it seems you and me got the same problem.”

Walker sags back in the driver’s seat, stunned, unable to make a sound except to quietly exhale a toxic stream of tension.

“You still with me?” Priestly asks.

“I’m here,” Walker manages to form the words, but just barely.

“So, whaddya propose we do about this problem, Cowboy?”

“I need to see you.” The words surge out in a rush. Walker’s used to suppressing his own needs, but this one is stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. It’s a rare moment of complete honesty where his emotions are concerned and that isn’t his usual M.O., except that, right now, he can’t seem to _stop_ being honest.

“You comin’ to California then? Let me know where and when. I’ll work it out.” 

“I uh, I can’t right now. I can’t get more than a few days away from work and I’m helping out on the ranch. I can’t be gone that long.”

He steels himself for the inevitable rejection. Priestly, both teasing and sarcastic, replies, “Well, I don’t think the sandwich shop can lend me the corporate jet for the weekend.” Priestly’s voice sounds slightly deflated. Or maybe Walker’s just hearing what he expects to hear. 

Walker realizes that he's called without any plan, but now that he’s gotten this far, he doesn’t want to give up on the possibility of…of what he has no idea. “I’ll send you a bus ticket and some money for the trip. Meet me in New Mexico.” He tries to say it more like a statement than a question. The actual possibility of being able to _see_ Priestly again sends a spike of adrenaline through him.

“You’re gonna pay me to come see you?” Priestly questions.

_Oh,_ _Jesus Christ, he thinks I want to hire him like some kind of prostitute!_ “Oh God, no, no, that’s not what I mean,” Walker hurries to contain the damage, “Only if you want to, I mean, I just want to see you – maybe we can talk? – I’m not, God, don’t think I’m expecting anything. Please – that’s not what I think of you at all.”

“Okay, just checking,” Priestly says, smile clearly apparent in his voice now before it drops to a whisper, “What if I’m the one expecting something? I mean, it’s a long trip just for a talk. Just sayin’.”

Walker swallows hard, cock already showing interest at Priestly’s suggestive tone and the sheer, unimaginable idea that Priestly might actually, even in some small way, still be interested in him. But they barely know each other outside of the brief, casual but friendly business relationship that grew into the start of something else over the few days he spent frequenting Priestly’s shop to pick up lunch during his trip to California. And that night, although seared into _his_ memory, was clearly meant to be a one-time thing. “Can we see what happens?” Walker asks cautiously.

“Yeah, yeah, totally – we can see what happens,” Priestly replies, sounding relieved and more relaxed.

“Okay, then.” Walker’s mind tries to click over into planning mode. He’s good at that. If he could only make his brain work… “I’ll mail the ticket to the shop.” He’s collected his thoughts enough to know he should probably send the ticket in a way that doesn’t leave a digital trace. “I uh, I still have the address on the wrapper.”

“The wrapper?” Priestly questions.

“I um, I saved the note you wrote me,” he admits sheepishly.

“You did?” Priestly sounds incredulous. “You carry it around in your wallet or something?” he chuckles.

Walker feels his face heat with embarrassment and he’s glad he’s utterly alone and that this is not a video call.

“You actually do, don’t you?” Priestly asks. When Walker doesn’t answer he continues, “I think I’m flattered by that.”

“I think you should be.” Walker surprises himself with his fairly confident reply.

“Look, I got someone coming in the door.” Walker hears the still-familiar sound of the bell jingle on the front door of the shop. “You do your part, I’ll do mine,” Priestly declares. “And Walker – “

“Yeah?”

“Glad you called.”

The line goes dead and Walker’s left alone with a racing heart and a goofy smile that feels entirely foreign on the face of a badass Texas Ranger.

________________________________________

Walker paces back and forth in his motel room just outside of dusty Deming, New Mexico. He’d sent the ticket off a week and a half ago, accompanied by the name of the motel, and received a brief text back from a number he didn’t recognize. He’s read it at least a hundred times since.

" **The eagle has landed. See you in NM. - BP** ”

He thought about how to reply for a ridiculously long amount of time, gave up on trying to say anything witty, and texted back “Great! See you there!” as if he were meeting a colleague for a beer after work. He was so afraid he’d stick his foot in his mouth via text and torpedo the whole thing. What if Priestly changed his mind and came to his senses?

For his part, he’d been working his ass off to make the request for a weekend away a no-brainer for his superior and his Captain had signed the paperwork with a quirked eyebrow but no further comment. Years of hard work on the force had gained him the reputation of someone who was always willing do overtime and take on extra assignments. Always up for filling in whenever duty called. It was better for him to stay busy and have less time to think. He’d told his family he had to head out for a few days on a work thing. He told work it was a family thing. The two halves of his life, work and personal, rarely intersected and he didn’t think they would suddenly start comparing notes this weekend.

He chose this motel because the Greyhound stopped a block away. The idea of picking Priestly up somewhere and driving any distance with him, confined in his truck with no way out for his nerves, seemed an impossibility at the time, so he made sure to make his reservations at the motel closest to the station. He hadn’t checked any reviews and, as a result, and the place turned out to be underwhelming but clean. He jumps at a knock on the door. The bus isn’t due in for another fifteen minutes. Who could be bothering him now?

Walker opens the door to an astonishing sight; resolute green eyes outlined in black, silver ring curving around a full bottom lip, descending line of rings going down the edges of both ears, blue mohawk, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy” t-shirt just barely brushing the hem of a black kilt, muscular legs and combat boots below that. Small backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Coulda texted me the room number,” Priestly smiles up at him. “Front desk douchebag gave me some shit when I asked for it, so I told him I’m your confidential informant.”

He hadn’t even texted him the room number. _What a complete jerk._

“I didn’t know if you’d show,” Walker replies. At least that’s the truth.

“I said I’d do my part. I don’t back down.” Priestly looks him right in the eye, almost defiantly.

“I don’t expect you ever do,” Walker replies, small, apologetic smile for his oversight at the edge of his mouth. He takes a step back – wordlessly inviting Priestly to enter.

Just then, a slightly drunken resident of the same motel stumbles past, “Nice skirt, fairy. You fags make me gag!” Priestly turns without missing a beat and shoots back, “Then you probably shouldn’t deep throat so far, and it’s a kilt, asshole!”

Walker firmly grabs his arm and pulls him inside the room, flashing his badge at the drunk who hurries away.

“Motherfucker,” Priestly says under his breath as he regains his balance and looks around. “You Rangers go first class all the way, huh?” he comments sarcastically. “Mind if I hit the john? Bus bathrooms leave a lot to be desired.”

Walker shakes free of his disbelief that Priestly is here, solid, real. “Uh, yeah, sure, of course; right over there,” he gestures to the back of the room.

“Thanks, man,” Priestly saunters towards the bathroom door. It closes with a decisive click of the lock and Walker hears him piss, flush, then hears the water running for awhile as he washes up. When Priestly re-emerges from the bathroom, Walker’s still standing, nervous and unsure, in the room’s kitchenette, trying not stare as Priestly walks towards him.

Priestly looks at Walker like he’s trying to figure him out. “You gonna invite me to sit down? Last I heard you wanted to talk.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Walker stumbles over himself, motioning to the chairs on either side of the kitchenette table, but Priestly ignores him, sitting down heavily on the edge of one of the queen beds instead, pointedly looking at Walker and jerking his chin towards the opposite mattress, signaling Walker to sit down across from him. Walker immediately realizes that there’s going to be no table, no barrier of any kind between them, but he goes along in spite of his quivering stomach. Priestly leans back on his elbows, kilt rising to mid-knee. Walker’s mouth goes dry. All he can think to ask is, “How was the trip?”

“Long. Judgey. Glad I could be the onboard entertainment for some very interested Japanese tourists. I bet they’ve set up an Instagram account for me by now.”

  
“They photographed you?” Walker feels his temper flare unexpectedly.

“They all had their phones out, pointed in my direction. Who the fuck knows?”

“Why do you put up with it?” Walker suddenly asks.

“Why do I put up with what?”

“All the shit people give you – you know, for…looking like you do.”

Priestly raises an eyebrow. “You brought me all the way out here to ask me that?”

“No, of course not. Sorry. Nothing’s coming out the way I mean it.” Walker huffs out a frustrated breath, wishing he could be less awkward. The first time they really talked, he had the advantage of a serious buzz. If this crashes and burns, it’s on him.

Priestly waves a hand, “Forget it. I like looking this way. I’d crawl outta my skin if I had to wear a shirt and tie like you do. It’s not really a choice, man. This is just who I am.”

Walker nods. “I like it,” he states quietly.

“Why?” Priestly surprises him with a question in return.

“ ‘S fucking brave,” Walker says, resting his elbows on his knees across from Priestly and looking up at him.

Something softens in Priestly’s face. He glances quickly down at the floor, the first time Walker’s ever seen him even approach looking shy. “Don’t hear that very often,” he replies quietly.

“How’s the shop?” Walker changes the subject, unsure how to continue, but encouraged by Priestly’s honesty in the face of his questions.

“The shop's good,” Priestly nods with pride. “Owner made Tish a manager too. She’s the one with the red hair. Now I have some help with the scheduling and hiring so it took some of the pressure off.” Priestly talks about the shop with ease, clearly at home there. “Oh, and I got to make a change to the menu.” He fishes his phone out of one of the side pockets on the kilt and starts scrolling. Walker wrinkles his forehead in confusion.

“Here it is.” Priestly holds the screen up to Walker.

Walker squints at it…it’s a closeup of the menu board “The Smokin’ Hot Cowboy – smoked turkey, smoked provolone and sliced avocado with a dash of hot sauce on a freshly-baked sub roll”.

“You…named a sandwich after me?” Walker smiles.

Priestly’s serious when he returns Walker’s gaze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.” Their eyes lock.

Walker would be lying if he said he’d forgotten the intense green of Priestly’s eyes – but seeing them right here in front of him robs him of speech and the silence stretches out with nothing but the two of them staring at each other until Priestly says, “You wanna maybe come back to this conversation in an hour?” Implication clear. The attraction is undeniable, damn electric, and Walker’s having a very hard time concentrating on anything but the heat in Priestly’s eyes and the glint of that fucking lucky ring encircling his full bottom lip. Priestly bites the opposite side of said lip, lowering his head slightly, and looks up at Walker through his lashes. He looks like living, breathing, sex and Walker still can’t bring himself to make a sound.

Walker nods.

“You gonna take the lead again?” Priestly asks, "Give me some more instructions?" and Walker’s pulse increases as he realizes that Priestly must remember their one night stand with almost as much clarity as he does.

Walker shakes his head, “Don’t want to this time.”

“Alright,” Priestly gives Walker’s entire body a slow once-over. “You waiting for an engraved invitation or something?”

Walker chuckles, caught off guard for a second by Priestly’s boldness, but only for a second. It’s harder without any alcohol in his system to calm his nerves, but he _wants_ , and he just got permission to _have_. Suddenly he’s not thinking. He’s just acting, sliding from the bed to his knees in front of Priestly who’s still sitting on the opposite queen. Priestly doesn’t move, but follows Walker with his piercing black-lined gaze. Walker straightens up in front of him, as tall as he can get while still on his knees between Priestly’s splayed thighs. “Missed you,” he confesses.

Priestly gets a hand on the close stubble of Walker’s chin, tilting it up, and lowers his head until their lips meet, body-warmed metal of the lip ring touching Walker’s mouth and he darts his tongue out to feel the hard shape of it.

“Mmmm…you like the piercings, huh?” Priestly observes before his tongue presses urgently into Walker’s mouth. Walker moans around it and feels Priestly grab his wrist and shove it under his t-shirt, “Got a couple new ones since the last time we did this.”

Walker searches across Priestly’s chest, fingers brushing over one nipple ring, then another and his cock strains in his jeans. He breaks the kiss. “Off,” he demands, tugging urgently at Priestly’s shirt.

Priestly smiles at the expectant look on Walker’s face. He reaches back, pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it aside with one fluid motion, and sits back to wait for Walker’s reaction.

Walker takes in the smooth, muscled chest sprinkled with freckles, black metal rings through each erect nipple. Black line of the kilt low on Priestly’s waist, material bulging out just below the waistband with his thick hard on. Walker’s cock swells with need when he realizes, that Priestly’s just as turned on as he is.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Walker breathes out in a hushed tone before surging forward and taking one hard nipple in his mouth, tongue playing mercilessly with the ring. Priestly throws his head back and groans as Walker brings a hand up to touch the other exposed, hard peak.

“Fuck yeah,” Priestly’s hand flies to the back of Walker’s head, holding him in place, openly enjoying each flick of the Ranger’s tongue.

Priestly pushes his chest forward, nipple pressing deeper into Walker's wet mouth. He sucks hard until Priestly gasps. Chancing a glance up, he sees Priestly's charcoal-lined eyes watching him with incredible intensity. "God, Cowboy, that mouth on you," Priestly breathes. "Feels so fucking good." Priestly takes Walker's wrist and guides it down until Walker’s large hand rests directly on top of Priestly’s erection, maddeningly buried under a layer of heavy kilt canvas.

Walker’s fingers search along the waistband and, unable to find anything resembling a fly, he gives up and shoves his hand below the hem, bunching up the fabric. "Don't know how this thing works," he mumbles against Priestly's chest.

"You'll learn," Priestly replies with certainty.

Walker smiles against the nipple ring. Those two little words mean this might not be the last time this happens. A wave of relief washes through him and he slides his hand between the canvas of the kilt and a sleek fabric he didn't expect.

"Huh," he observes between licks to Priestly's hard nipples, trying to give each one equal attention, "Figured you for commando."

"Naw, man," Priestly's still watching his mouth, "chafing."

Makes sense.

Priestly presses up into his grip as Walker palms him through the smooth fabric of his short boxer briefs. He can’t believe he’s here with Priestly, so willing, in front of him. Touching him like this feels like some kind of reward. The way he’s moving and the noises he’s making give Walker a road map to what feels best to him and he’s as tuned in as he would be when interrogating a suspect. Reading Priestly’s body language by feel makes it apparent that he’s asking for more. Walker’s large hand strokes the length and snugs down around the width of Priestly’s impressively thick cock – fabric of the briefs stretched to accommodate his growing size, cool spot near the waistband unabashedly spreading, expanding with his liquid arousal.

Walker moves with Priestly as he sits up. Cool air rushes over the back of his hand as Priestly lays the kilt open. ‘ _Must open on the side,’_ Walker mentally notes, just in case he IS lucky enough to find himself in this position again. His mouth loses contact with Priestly’s chest as Priestly leans back on his elbows again, the kilt a flat strip on the bed under his ass. The invitation to keep going is clear as day. Walker looks down to see bright red fabric, molded closely over Priestly’s willing cock, complete with old-timey illustrations of a barrel racer at full gallop. He chokes down a laugh. "You went all-out." He looks up at Priestly and can't stop the wide grin on his face. He wonders how one man can be so badass, so irreverent, yet so lighthearted and playful all at once.

"Damn right - if it makes you smile like that, Cowboy." Priestly’s features light up with a genuine smile in return and Walker thinks he's beautiful.

Walker bends down as Priestly sits up slightly so he’s leaning on his hands instead of his elbows for a better view. Walker gives him an uncharacteristically wicked smile before getting his lips around the wide crown of Priestly cock, pushing down insistently over the stretchy fabric with the tight circle of his lips where Priestly’s hard on presses up. He sucks at the damp material and groans - that taste. Months have passed since he last tasted Priestly and he could've picked the man out of a lineup, blindfolded, by taste alone.

"Fuck," Priestly breathes out, "Just wanna fuck your mouth again. Wanted to fuck your mouth for three Goddamn months."

Walker can't quite believe what he's hearing. He wasn't, isn't the only one yearning for another chance at this. The first time he’d blown Priestly it had been unplanned and a bit frantic and ever since then he’d wanted another chance to make it even better, make it last longer. He remembered how Priestly looked that night every time he had his own cock in his hand over the past three months, trying to take the edge off. He wants to drag those sounds out of Priestly again. _Thank God for second chances._ His dick jerks painfully in his jeans and he quickly pops open his fly, spreading his knees on the floor, pulling out his own leaking cock. “Do it,” he says hungrily out the side of his mouth, the rest of it still occupied with the head of Priestly’s fabric-covered cock.

“Maybe we can lose everything from the waist down then?” Priestly suggests, breathless, but he doesn’t move, looking like he’s unwilling to relinquish the sensation of Walker’s mouth on him.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Walker quickly stands, putting his cock at eye level for Priestly who doesn’t hesitate, just leans forward and licks a strip up Walker’s entire length, surge of precome smearing along the edge of his lips and his cheek as he goes. Walker bites down hard on the inside of his mouth and lays a vise grip on Priestly shoulder, “You do that one more time, and it’s gonna be over a lot sooner than I want it to be,” he warns. Priestly gives him a ‘fair enough’ look and darts out his tongue to taste the slick trail on side of his mouth, closing his eyes like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Walker swears, kicking off his black Lucchese boots and fumbling to get out of his jeans.

Priestly watches him with an amused smile on his face as he lifts his ass up enough to slide off his own boxer briefs and kick them to a dark corner of the room. Walker appreciates the way the black strip of kilt under him contrasts with skin that’s never seen the sun, sharply outlining narrow hips and the “V” of his abdomen, pointing exactly where Walker most wants to be.

Priestly grabs the hem of Walker’s snap front shirt and pulls it apart, snaps popping open all the way up until the shirt hangs on either side of his exposed chest. “That’s better,” Priestly proclaims. Walker swears that the look he gives him is positively hungry. “You don’t know how badly I wanna suck that huge dick of yours right now,” Priestly confesses, reaching out and stroking the groove above Walker’s hipbone; dangerously close to his bobbing, straining cock.

“Wanna finish what I started.” Walker runs his nails through the short, nearly-shaved hair on the side of Priestly’s head, using every ounce of control not to blow his load at Priestly’s affectionate touch on his hip. He feels Priestly lean into his palm.

“I ain’t gonna stop you,” Priestly concedes as he eases back on the bed, braced with the heels of his hands pressing into the mattress, completely, gorgeously naked except for his combat boots. Pale skin ornamented with glinting metal in several places and the black scroll of his tattoo snaking down his neck to peek over the top of his shoulder, a bright blue bird that Walker doesn’t remember seeing before swoops across one pec. Priestly never takes his eyes off him. Drinking him in like he’s some kind of oasis in the desert. “C’mere,” he orders, and Walker, suddenly a bit self-conscious, moves in closer. Sure, he’s in good shape. Lean from ranch work and the occasional workout, but Priestly’s at least eight years his junior and nothing but miles of smooth skin. _Like a fucking model._

Priestly spreads his knees in front of him, feet anchored to the ground by his boots, and Walker goes down, careful to give his own cock plenty of room; so hard he has only the slightest curve - afraid that if he brushes against anything at all, it’ll be over far too soon.

Walker gets a firm grip on each of Priestly’s thighs and, starting at the base of his thick, hard length, mouths his way up to the crown before taking him down in one swallow, hot, velvety head filling his throat until his bottom lip feels the smooth, tight skin of Priestly clean-shaven balls. He smells good. Like cedar and sandalwood soap. Not like someone who just spent a day on a bus. That time in the bathroom – he must’ve cleaned up for him. That means something to Walker. This isn’t just a quick fuck in a motel room. It never was for Walker. This smells like confirmation that the same is true for Priestly.

“Oh God, oh my God…oh FUCK!” Priestly cries out as Walker sucks him, working over his shaft with his tongue. He feels Priestly’s hands tentatively touch his head, “Can I?” he asks, voice tight with desire, and Walker nods, humming in approval. _God yes, do it_ his brain pleads silently. He _wants_ Priestly to take the reins, to free him of responsibility, to take control. He rarely lets himself go there, but right here, right now, he just wants to forget the rest of the world. To do nothing more than let Priestly guide him and use him.

Priestly’s hands land firmly on either side of his skull, fingers lacing through his hair and Walker relaxes his throat. He feels Priestly start moving in a slow but purposeful rhythm. He _wants_ this. _Needs_ it. Wants to give Priestly what he’s desperately wanted to give him since that night in the bar. Jesus Christ it feels so right. He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of having his mouth filled by the man he couldn’t stop thinking about. Priestly soon starts to fuck his mouth in earnest – each shove going deeper and the taste of precome constant. Walker’s matching his pace – they’re moving together, his mouth open to receive, his tongue getting rubbed raw. He feels Priestly’s nails on his scalp and takes it for the warning that it is, but he wants to take it all this time and only tightens his grip on Priestly’s thighs in reply. Priestly arches, yells “Oh _FUCK_ yeah!”, crushes his balls against Walker’s lips and starts shooting his load down the taller man’s throat.

Walker swallows, swallows again, and again, salty release in sharp contrast to the mild sweetness of precome. He never eases up the tight ring of his lips around the rigid, wide base of Priestly’s cock. His hearing seems muffled. Like the sensations in his mouth have overwhelmed his other senses – fried them out like the aftermath of a loud rock concert and everything is soft and fuzzy, but he can faintly hear Priestly cursing and begging and he’s still coming down his throat until finally he feels his hair being tugged back as Priestly gasps, “Too much, c’mon man, Jesus fuck you sucked me dry,” and he finally relaxes his lips, letting Priestly’s cock slide free to thud heavily against the younger man’s pale thigh, glistening with a sheen of Walker’s spit.

While Walker is exceptional at setting his own needs aside, mind over matter can only last so long, so when Priestly hauls him up and falls back on the bed, pulling Walker down on top of him, plunging his tongue into Walker’s mouth, licking out his own taste, Walker’s cock erupts onto Priestly’s stomach, splattering the edge of his barely-hanging-on shirt draped over the sides of their bodies. He gasps and grunts through the clenching and releasing of his tight sac, the stretch of his fully erect cock gushing his release between them like a fucking geyser. Priestly swallows down every sound he makes, kissing him through the orgasm as Walker rubs his twitching cock against Priestly’s firm abs, sliding gloriously through his own cum. Priestly pushes up against him to increase the friction and Walker’s balls pump out one last spurt before he rolls to the side, never losing contact with Priestly’s full lips. They lie facing each other, legs intertwined, come dripping down onto the bedspread below them. Priestly breaks the kiss and runs an index finger through the mess, licking it off. Walker follows Priestly’s finger and watches his lips close around it until he can’t stand it anymore. So dirty. So hot. So intimate. So beyond his wildest fantasies. He tugs Priestly’s wrist aside to press their mouths together so he can taste himself on Priestly’s tongue.

He eventually has to come up for air and flops onto his back. Breathing hard. Priestly props himself up on one elbow, looking down at him, hair a wild, charming disarray. He looks like some kind of exotic, fucked-out angel with the window light coming in behind his head, making the blue of his mohawk even more vibrant. Priestly looks so relaxed. His features gentle, precise eyeliner smudged into softer lines somewhere along the way. Green eyes blazing from the dark depths of the liner. Walker feels some pride swell in his chest. _Mission accomplished._

He isn’t one to linger much after sex. Usually, sex is a means to an end. A release. A way to satisfy his body’s need the same way he would with food or sleep, but…he doesn’t want this moment to end. He feels boneless. High. Warm. Almost fucking _giddy._ It feels like they both got what they needed and that’s a rare thing in Walker’s life. The give and take. The communication, both verbal and silent. It feels like true equality.

“That was…” Walker looks up at him, taking in his satisfied smile. Returning it with one of his own. His raw throat makes his voice rasp and he tries to soothe it by swallowing before he attempts to continue, but Priestly beats him to it.

“Yeah,” Priestly replies, hint of wonder in his voice. “Don’t think I have words for that. No one’s ever turned me on that much and we didn’t even fuck.” Priestly lifts a finger to stroke up Walker’s exposed throat and trace over his lips, then the barely-visible thin line of the scar that runs across his cheek. Priestly doesn't say anything about the scar, so he doesn't either. Walker's always been a bit glad he has a small, permanently-visible reminder of their first night together.

Walker’s cock gives a valiant twitch at the thought of actually being able to fuck, or, better yet, getting fucked by this man.

“No one?” he manages, voice still rough.

Priestly looks like he’s thinking back over all of his past conquests and weighing the outcomes, ticking the imaginary partners off with his fingers. “Nope – no one.”

“Had to think about it, huh?” Walker half-teases him. He’s undeniably curious about who else has gotten to have this with Priestly.

“Yeah – it’s such a long list,” Priestly replies sarcastically. Playful tone breaking the post-orgasm glow.

“Anyone…recent on that list?” Walker knows he should shut up, just enjoy this, no pressure, no expectations, but he can’t stop himself. Priestly looks at him with a curious expression. “Maybe I don’t want to know,” Walker admits, suddenly worried that he’s overstepped when the silence seems to stretch on too long.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Priestly reassures him, not realizing just _how_ reassuring it is. “I just have a lot of…family obligations. Don’t really have the time for anything else.” He slowly shakes his head.

“You help out your parents?” Walker asks, thinking about his own father on the ranch where he spends every hour when he’s not on the clock with the Rangers.

Priestly looks out the window and takes a breath before looking back down at Walker’s interested expression. “No, my parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen."

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “ Walker backpedals and instinctively tries to back up a little on the bed, put some space between them, reinsert some level of formality, worried that he’s inadvertently asked a question that’s far too personal. He doesn’t get anywhere, though, as Priestly holds him in place with a calm, reassuring hand – warm palm spread flat on his chest.

“No, it’s life. It’s reality. Nothing to apologize for. It’s just been the three of us since then.”

“Three of you?” Walker asks, tentatively, relieved that Priestly didn’t shut down the conversation.

“Yeah, my older brother Rae and my baby sister Sam.”

“Rae and Sam?”

“Racer and Samantha,” Priestly fills in. “They’re pretty much my whole world,” Walker can read the sincerity on his face.

“So you guys help each other out?” Walker asks, thinking again about his own situation and how it always seems that he’s the one putting out family fires.

“Look, you sure this isn’t boring you?” Priestly asks suddenly.

Walker’s taken aback, “No, I want to know more about you.”

“Same,” Priestly replies, regarding Walker carefully. “Can we talk some more after we get cleaned up? Things are starting to get a bit itchy.”

Walker had been so captivated that he hadn’t noticed, but now that Priestly mentions it, the drying come on his own stomach is not the most pleasant sensation.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he replies. “I um, I got you your own room if you want to shower there.”

“Seriously?” Priestly sounds more than a little surprised.

“Why wouldn’t I?” _Fuck._ He must look like some kind of old, conservative monk. _Way to go._

“I dunno. I just thought…never mind. I got my stuff here already; you mind if I use your shower?” Priestly’s smiling now, reassuring Walker by the second.

_Breathe. Stop overthinking everything! You’re not a fucking mind reader so don’t try to be._ “Please, go for it.” Walker tries to take his own advice, willing his suddenly-tense shoulders to relax.

Priestly leans over and plants a firm kiss on Walker’s lips. Walker surges up to meet him but finds himself kissing the air since Priestly’s already swung his legs over the edge of the bed and is heading towards the bathroom, grabbing his backpack on the way. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he calls out over his shoulder. Walker’s face reddens – caught in the act watching Priestly’s muscled ass as the younger man, wearing nothing but his boots, disappears behind the bathroom door. Walker notices he doesn’t close it all the way. _What does that mean?_ He wonders to himself. _Is that some kind of invitation? Does he want me to follow?_

Walker hears the shower running and decides it’s better to play it safe and _not_ assume that the unlocked door is some kind of code he doesn’t understand. He stands to strip the abused comforter off the bed, carefully draping Priestly’s abandoned kilt over the back of a chair. He pulls on his discarded underwear and strips off his wrecked shirt. He’s surprised to hear his own stomach growl and suddenly remembers he’d skipped lunch.

Walker was well aware of the minimal food options in Deming, having driven through several times on his way to somewhere else. Just to be safe, he’d filled up his dad’s old Colemans before leaving town – the green one full of cold cuts and cheese, raw vegetables and some fruit, eggs, and ham. The red one packed with beer, iced tea, bottled water, milk, and orange juice. A bag of dry ingredients along with new, unopened condiments wait on the counter. He leans over to pull the green cooler out just as the bathroom door swings open and he hears a low whistle as Priestly’s greeted by the sight of Walker’s ass covered only with the black fabric of his briefs.

Walker stands quickly, face red for the millionth time today and spins around to see Priestly smirking at him. “Room’s not much, but you can’t beat the view,” he quips. He seems to enjoy the way Walker doesn’t know what to do with his hands besides run them through his hair and give a tense smile in return.

“Come on, man, lighten up,” Priestly teases.

Walker tries to shake his self-consciousness and tells himself to stop looking at the carpet, so his eyes make their way towards Priestly instead and when they find him, his knees feel weak. Priestly looks like – almost like a different person. Bare feet, heavy combat boots carried in one hand, a pair of soft gray sweats, a clean black Nirvana t-shirt, faint circles of the nipple rings showing under the thin fabric. Walker’s gaze travels up, past the neck tattoo that dives below the edge of the t-shirt like always. Priestly’s eyes, with just a post-shower smudge of a hint of eyeliner, are no less stunning; bright green with long lashes. He looks softer and younger and more masculine all at once. The damp hair of his blue mohawk pulled back in a small, looped ponytail high at the back of his head.

Standing there in his underwear, dried come flaking on his stomach, Walker feels decidedly ordinary and is again acutely aware of their age difference as he takes in this much more relaxed-looking version of a still-exquisite Priestly.

Priestly’s forehead wrinkles, “What’s wrong?” he asks, setting his boots down at the foot of the bed. “You’re looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost.”

_Fuck, stop staring!_ Walker’s brain scolds him. But it’s too late. He can’t stop. He gets ahold of himself enough to close his mouth. “It’s just,” he pauses, “you look so different.”

“That a problem for you?” Priestly asks with a slight edge to his voice.

“No! God no. You’re,“ damn, how can he be so bad at this? “You’re gorgeous. “

He’s rewarded with a smile. “You ain’t so bad yourself,” Priestly looks him right in the eye. Then his eyes slide south, down Walker’s body. “Be even better after a shower. You know,” he locks eyes with him again, “clean slate for the next round,” and the corner of his mouth quirks up invitingly.

Walker gracelessly makes a move towards the bathroom, but Priestly grabs him by the wrist as he tries to get past and tilts his lips up for a soft kiss. Walker’s only too happy to accommodate him. “You smell so good,” he can’t help but mumble.

“Yeah, I’m the only one. Get in there,” Priestly says, less than an inch from his mouth.

Walker smiles and shakes his head. He still feels woefully inept at this. Flirting. Kissing like it’s no big deal. Like it wouldn’t get him beaten to within an inch of his life back home. He startles when Priestly smacks him on the ass as he goes by.

________________________________________

The shower feels heavenly, relaxing his orgasm-loosened muscles even further. He exhales fully for what feels like the first time three months. He feels…like he’s taking care of himself. Like he’s _being_ himself. He feels good. Like he’s where he wants to be with the person he wants to be with - this endlessly fascinating man currently making himself comfortable somewhere on the other side of the flimsy bathroom door. He fleetingly wishes it could feel this way all the time. But…it’s different back home and – _STOP!_ He tells his brain not to go there. _Don’t you dare fucking ruin this._ Walker shoves the lever of the shower to “cold” for the final rinse to shock himself out of his own thoughts, clearing his mind of everything but the here and now and the stunningly frigid water.

He exits the bathroom with a towel around his waist, scrubbing another through his hair, and heads for his travel bag for some clean clothes, cold-water goosebumps receding in the warmth of the room. He notices Priestly standing in the kitchenette, working on something on the counter.

“Whatcha doin’?” he calls out as he digs through his bag for a shirt.

“Just throwing something together for us,” comes the reply. “Looks like you must’ve been a Boy Scout ‘cause you’re damn well-prepared, Cowboy.”

Walker finds a clean pair of boxer briefs and reaches for his jeans. “Eagle Scout, actually.”

“That figures,” Priestly replies. “You planning on goin’ somewhere?” Walker realizes that Priestly’s watching him from the kitchenette, work paused, knife in one hand.

“No, why?” Walker asks.

“Just thinkin’, unless you sleep in those things too,” Priestly gestures towards the jeans with his knife, “don’t tell me that’s all you brought.”

Walker wrinkles his brow. “I have the pants I sleep in, but it’s only 4:00.”

“So?”

Walker has no idea what Priestly’s getting at.

“Just, forget the jeans,” Priestly looks at him pointedly. “Relax. Get comfortable.”

Walker shrugs and lays the jeans on a chair, briefs folded on top of them, and digs deeper in his duffel, pulling out the soft cotton pants he sleeps in and a white v-neck t-shirt. He can’t remember, exactly, when he was last in the company of another human being wearing something other than jeans or his uniform.

“Now you’re talkin’,” Priestly smiles widely at Walker, dressed entirely in cotton. Cock brushing against the soft interior of his sleep pants and even that, combined with Priestly’s approval, feels like foreplay. “Get your ass over here.” Priestly gestures towards the table.

Walker sits down, leans back in the chair, and watches Priestly set a sandwich down in front of him with a flourish. “You brought everything we needed for this – looks like you mighta been missing more than just my charm.”

Smoked turkey, smoked provolone, and avocado with a dash of hot sauce. Walker’s stomach growls, reminding him of how distracted he’d been from all of his body’s daily needs, save one. “Oh my God, you have no idea.” He looks up at Priestly who briefly squeezes his shoulder before heading back to the counter for his own sandwich.

Walker had tried to make this for himself at home in Texas a hundred times. Tried in vain to mimic his personal, customized creation made by Priestly back at the sandwich shop in Santa Cruz. It had taken him a month just to figure out by trial and error that the smoked cheese was provolone. There he was, at home on his family’s ranch; the only home he’d ever known, but it wasn’t the ranch that gave him comfort; it was a stupid sandwich. Whenever he’d had a bad day, he tried to make one for himself. He never got the balance of ingredients quite right, but he got as close as he could.

Priestly sits down across from him, watching. Walker takes his first bite and lets out a downright sexual groan at the elusive, perfect combination of flavors that flood his taste buds.

“Good?” Priestly smiles at him, his own sandwich midway between his mouth and his plate as he watches Walker.

“Fuck yeah,” Walker replies, eyes closed, enjoying the taste.

“I don’t think I ever got a sound like that out of you before now,” Priestly teases. “Guess I’ll haveta try harder.”

Walker chuckles, “I’m not gonna stop you,” he repeats Priestly earlier words back to him. Priestly taking the care to make this for him…okay, he did bring everything he thought he would need, but Priestly did it without asking. Just saw the supplies and figured it out. These little things – no one else in his life took the time to do things like that for him. His stomach feels warm and it has nothing to do with the hot sauce. “Seriously, man, this is awesome. Fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Priestly takes a huge bite of his ham and swiss with lettuce, a white blob of mayo catching on his lip. His tongue darts out to retrieve it.

_Fuck_ , just watching Priestly run his tongue across his lips is about to give Walker another boner. He wants to get that lip ring in his own mouth again, suck the white, creamy mayo off of it himself. _You’re not fourteen – get a grip on yourself for fuck’s sake! Talk. Just say SOMETHING!_ “Tell me more about your family.” Walker finally organizes his thoughts enough to start some kind of conversation. “You said it’s you and your brother and sister. Rae and Sam?”

“Yeah,” Priestly replies between bites. “Racer and Samantha.”

“Racer, Boaz, and Samantha,” Walker muses. “I wish I could’ve met your parents. They sound like they did their own thing.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Priestly rolls his eyes.

“I’d like to,” Walker replies honestly.

“Maybe we’ll get to them next time,” Priestly replies and Walker feels warmth in his chest at the reinforcement of the implication of a “next time”. There have been a few of those from Priestly and Walker starts feeling safe enough to begin to actually dare to mentally start _planning_ for “next time”.

“How’d Sam get off so – “

“Easy?” Priestly helpfully adds. “Named after my mom’s lifelong best friend Samantha – Aunt Sam ended up raising us after the car accident.”

Walker nods. “Where’d they get ‘Boaz’?” he asks. Priestly’s unusual first name had stuck with him ever since he first read it off the note.

“No clue.”

Walker thinks for a minute. “Would you mind if I called you ‘Bo’?”

Priestly laughs at that, then takes in Walker’s serious expression. “Wait, you gotta be kidding. ‘Bo’ sounds like some kinda southern good ‘ole boy. Seriously?”

When Walker just keeps waiting, slight smile on his lips, Priestly continues, “Sure; fine, okay, as long as I can call you ‘Dell’,” he teases.

_It’s cute that he thinks that will deter me._ “No one’s ever called me that before,” Walker replies evenly.

“No one’s ever called me ‘Bo’ before,” Priestly retorts.

“I like it,” Walker says with finality.

“You what?!” Priestly scrambles. “You _want_ me to call you ‘Dell’?”

“I want you to call me something that no one else calls me,” Walker replies honestly.

Priestly’s look has “touché” written all over it. “Well I’m not going to chicken out then,” he insists. “It’s ‘Bo’ to you from now on, _Dell_ ,” Priestly punches the name with extra significance. “Don’t forget it.”

_'I never could,'_ Walker thinks to himself.

“So, you live with your family?” Walker picks up the conversation again, inordinately pleased that he got his way on the nickname.

“Yeah, it’s just been the three of us for a long time. Well, actually, now it’s the two of us.” Priestly glances sideways.

“Did Rae move out? Or Sam?” Walker asks between enthusiastic bites of sandwich.

“You could say that. Rae moved out to Salinas Valley,” Priestly offers, slight harsh tone to his reply.

“Salinas Valley,” Walker thinks out loud as the name rings familiar. “Don’t they have a big – “

“State prison. Yup. Rae’s in for twenty-five years.”

Walker tries to keep his face passive. “What happened?” Priestly looks at him funny. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just…usually people ask, ‘What’d he do’?”

Walker shakes his head. “In my experience, it’s never that simple.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not simple,” Priestly agrees. “He’s in for…premeditated vehicular homicide.” Priestly says it reluctantly, like it’s physically painful to do so.

“How – “ Walker starts to probe a bit further but is cut off by Priestly.

“There is someone else,” Priestly ignores Walker’s question. Walker has spent his career reading people, and there’s no mistaking the fond look on Priestly’s face as he says it. It’s the way people look when they talk about someone they love. Fuck. He knew it was too good to be true. Here it comes. The other shoe, so to speak. More like the other combat boot. Walker’s stomach twists into a knot with dread and he puts down the rest of his sandwich, appetite suddenly gone.

“Row,” Priestly continues.

“Row?” Walker’s tone is wooden as he repeats the name.

“My niece. Sparrow.“ Priestly matter-of-factly pulls down the neck of his t-shirt and suddenly the bright blue American Traditional bird flying across his pec makes much more sense.

Walker sighs a huge sigh of relief. Internally, of course. Outwardly he stays quiet and lets Priestly take the conversation wherever he wants to take it.

After a pause and a ‘what the hell’ shrug, Priestly continues, “Alright, I’ll just tell you what happened." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Sam was sexually assaulted her last year of high school. She got pregnant. She decided to have Row. They live with me.” In spite of what they’re talking about, Walker can’t miss the smile on Priestly’s face. “I love that kid.”

“Did they catch the guy?” Walker asks instinctively, Ranger mode always quick to assert itself.

“Yeah, but the fucking local Sheriff ‘lost’ the rape kit. The guy that assaulted her was a rich kid with parents who could afford lawyers – and donations to the Sheriff’s re-election campaign, so it was Sam’s word against his. They didn’t believe her.” Priestly swallows hard. “Motherfucker said it was consensual. They bought it. Made my baby sister out to be some kind of gold-digging whore.” Priestly balls his fists on the table and it looks like it takes all of his effort to relax his hands until they’re flat on the Formica again. “Rae lost it. Told the kid who raped her that he wanted to meet to talk it out, that he was going to bring him the paperwork to sign away his parental rights like he’d wanted to all along so he didn't have to support 'some bastard kid'. Rae lured him out in the country and ran him off the road. Asshole’s car flipped over an embankment and split in half around a tree trunk.”

Walker hates hearing the pain and anger in Priestly’s voice. It seems so out of character with the little of Priestly he knows. “How’s he doing?” he asks gently, sandwich forgotten.

“He’s fucking dead like he should be.”

“No, how’s Rae doing?”

“Oh – sorry. No one ever asks about him.” Sadness flits across Priestly stunning face. “He’s surviving. I stay in Santa Cruz to be close enough to visit him every month. “

“And Sam? How’s she doing?” Walker’s pushes his plate of unfinished food aside, leaning forward, giving Priestly his full attention.

“Sam’s good now. I did all I could to try to make sure of that.” Priestly regards Walker’s focused ‘go on’ expression and continues with the facts. “When she got pregnant, I was twenty-one. Three years into culinary school. That was the year we got mom and dad’s life insurance money. Aunt Samantha, kept it in a trust until then. I used it to get a place for us. I was gonna use my part of the insurance to pay for school – I’d been taking out loans until then, but Sam really needed me.” Priestly looks resolute - not at all regretful as he continues. “So, I quit school and started working full time at the sandwich shop. They actually give us health insurance so I got her counseling and paid for the hospital when she had Row. Best fucking decision I ever made.” Priestly looks out the window. “She’s gonna be okay. She’s an amazing mom.”

“She sounds amazing,” Walker confirms. Priestly smiles in appreciation.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid. Row is too.” Priestly turns serious for a second, “They’re all I’ve got.” Just as quickly, Priestly snaps out of his reflective mood. “How about you? Your family? You said your dad runs a ranch?” Priestly starts back in on the second half of his sandwich, emotionally moving on.

“Owns a ranch, actually. Been in my family for a few generations.” Walker offers.

Priestly stops chewing for a moment. “What kinda ranch is it?” he asks.

“We breed horses on two hundred and fifty acres outside of Austin.” Walker replies nonchalantly. It’s a common question in Texas and one he’s been asked his entire life. “We have a few head of cattle for training the horses. Most of our horses are sold to working cattle ranches.”

“Two _hundred_ acres?” Priestly repeats in an awed hush.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Walker corrects. He notices Priestly staring at him in disbelief. _He’s not from Texas – you gotta explain._ “I know it sounds like a lot of land –“

“I’ll say.”

“But it’s expensive to run. It costs a lot to train horses properly and sales aren’t guaranteed. Then there are the taxes…it’s hard to just hold onto the place most of the time.”

“So you help your dad…hold onto it?”

“My dad’s alone and getting older and the ranch is really too much for him to handle.” Walker reaches for his plate, sandwich beckoning.

“Your mom?” Priestly asks cautiously.

“Cancer. Ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. The family kinda fell apart for a few years without her. But my brother got his head out of his ass – started going to AA and cleaned up his act. Now we both help dad out when we can. I live in the guest cabin on the ranch. Working the place…well, it keeps me busy and that’s good.”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Cody.”

“You get along?”

“Better now that he’s on the wagon. I finally feel like I can count on him to be there when dad needs him.”

“What about when you need him?”

“It’s not really like that with us.”

“What’s it like then?”

“I know he’d be there in an emergency. That’s enough. That’s more than I coulda hoped for back when he was drinking.”

“Sounds like progress,” Priestly assess.

“I think so,” Walker replies.

Priestly looks at him with a thoughtful expression. “Sounds like your life’s all work; with the ranch and the family and the job.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Walker admits.

“When was the last time you took any real time off, I mean, before this weekend?”

“I haven’t since California.”

Priestly chews quietly for awhile. The next question that breaks the silence takes Walker by surprise. “So’s your cowboy family okay with you being into dudes?”

“That a serious question?”

“Yes.”

Walker rakes his hand through his hair as he swallows his last bite of sandwich. _Tell the truth._ “They don’t know.”

Priestly looks at him, like he’s considering something carefully. He looks like he’s about to reply, but just nods silently instead. “Sorry you have to hide it with them. That’s gotta suck.”

Walker feels an unexpected lump in his throat. He’s never had anyone empathize with his sexuality. He can count on three fingers the number of people who know he’s gay, and one of them died of cancer ten years ago. When he was still a teenager, he’d begged his mom not to tell his dad and she’d respected his wishes. He’s a 36-year-old man and he still hasn’t been able to bring himself to tell his father. He blinks quickly to fight back the sting in his eyes. He hears a chair scrape the floor across from him as Priestly gets up.

“Can I get you a beer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, thanks,” Walker manages.

Priestly digs around in the red cooler, “Aw; love Coronas,” he says almost to himself. “Corona good for you? Or you want one of the Lone Stars?”

“Corona’s good,” Walker replies, grateful that the questions about him have stopped for now. He feels Priestly’s hand on his shoulder from behind, open bottle placed on the table in front of him.

“My parents died before I had to have that conversation,” Priestly’s voice quietly filters down from above his head. “Even though they were pretty open-minded, I’m still glad I didn’t have to have it.” Warm hands start slowly massaging his shoulders and Walker closes his eyes and doesn’t hold back a tear he never anticipated that's suddenly determined to make its escape. “You don’t owe anyone any kind of explanation. You know that, right?”

Walker nods wordlessly and quickly wipes his eyes.

Priestly keeps up the steady massage, kneading the stress from his shoulders. “And there’s nothing fucking wrong with us either. We were wired this way from the start. It’d be wrong to pretend – wrong to marry some chick – that wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”

Walker slowly lets out a breath and takes a swig of his beer – cold and familiar taste grounding him. “How’d you get so smart?” he asks, taking another mouthful before tilting his head back against Priestly’s stomach and allowing the beer to run down his throat. It feels strange to entertain the idea that there could be any other way to live when he’s home. But leaning back against Priestly, he feels the chance for new possibilities unfolding in front of him like an open highway.

Priestly smiles down at him, “Not that smart.” Walker starts to protest but Priestly cuts him off. “Just always thought it was easier to say it like it is than try to keep the lies straight.”

Walker hadn’t asked Priestly out here for a counseling session. It was as unexpected as his barrel racer boxer briefs. Walker wonders if he could ever get bored with this man. He doesn’t think so.

They steer the conversation into less risky territory. Sports. Work. How plans don’t always work out the way you hope they will but the unexpected surprises can be good. And sometimes not so good. They open a few more beers until the alcohol has Walker grinning and Priestly laughing at his own clever jokes. Walker can’t believe it when he glances at the clock and it’s already 11:30.

Priestly yawns during the first lull in the conversation they’ve had in hours. “Guess I oughtta turn in, Cowboy.” He stands to gather the empty bottles. Years in the food service industry making it automatic.

“Please leave ‘em,” Walker insists. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I think I’ll let you do that,” Priestly allows, unsaid ‘thank you’ obvious. He turns to grab the shoulder strap on his backpack and accepts the key Walker holds out to him. He pauses next to Walker, who’s clearing the kitchen counter, “Um,” he shuffles his feet a bit, shoved into the combat boots with the laces hanging open, “Thanks for today. And tonight. It was, uh, it was awesome.”

“It was,” Walker agrees. “I’m right here if you need…anything.”

Priestly nods and leans in for a quick, beer-drenched kiss before he’s out the door. Walker hears him rattling the key in the lock of the room next to his.

Walker's rinsing the bottles for recycling when there’s a knock at the door less than a minute later. “Open!” he calls out.

Priestly fills the doorframe, but doesn’t come in. “Any reason why we didn’t start out over in my room? You know I got a king bed in there.”

Walker’s quiet for a minute. “Didn’t want you to think I expected anything.”

Priestly looks thoughtful. “Okay then. ‘Night, Dell.”

The reply flows off Walker’s tongue like he’s been saying it for years, “ ‘Night, Bo.”

________________________________________

Priestly fishes his phone out of his bag and plugs it in to charge. He wants to call Sam before it gets any later. Row should be asleep now so he can talk to his sister without interruption.

“Hey, bro,” he hears the familiar voice emanating from his Smartphone. “You’re not chained up in some shipping container behind someone’s house are you? Need to me to send in the Cavalry?” Sam giggles, “Or a film crew from Dateline?”

Priestly laughs, “Not at all – I’m _with_ the Cavalry.” Though younger than he is, Sam’s fiercely protective of him and she grilled him up and down about this trip before he left for New Mexico.

“The ‘Cavalry’ treating you okay?” Sam asks cautiously.

“Yeah,” Priestly smiles. “Got me my own room. “

“How virginal of you,” she teases.

“Shut up,” Priestly shoots back, grinning at the familiar banter. He hears a faint voice in the background. “Don’t tell me she’s still up,” he says, suddenly authoritative.

“You know she never wants to sleep without a story from her Duncle B,” Sam points out.

“Duncle B” – Sparrow had starting calling Priestly “Dada” as soon as she could talk. When she was old enough to start to understand, he tried to get her to say “uncle” instead, but she never quite got it, merging the two and he became “Duncle B”. It melts his heart every time.

“Story aside, you guys getting along okay?” Priestly asks.

“We miss you but, yeah, you got us all set up for the weekend.” There’s a short pause. “Thanks for filling up the fridge – it’s really nice to get to stay home and not worry about the shopping or dragging Row through the store.”

“You bet,” Priestly replies.

“You…having a good time?” Sam prods.

“You know I never kiss and tell,” Priestly smiles.

“Bullshit,” Sam calls him out. “You _always_ kiss and tell. So tell.”

“Nuh-uh,” Priestly defers. “Don’t wanna jinx it.”

“Oh – that good, huh?” Sam deduces. “Well, you deserve it. You work your ass off for us and you never do anything for yourself.”

Priestly swallows back his emotion at his sister’s praise. She gives it freely, but he always thinks he could do more, work harder.

“Thanks for holding down the fort for a weekend,” is all he can think to say.

“Like I said, you deserve it,” she repeats softly. “Now get some sleep. Or enjoy yourself. Or both. Don’t get dehydrated,” she teases.

“Not a chance,” Priestly replies, voice quiet. “Give Row a kiss for me and tell her to get her ass to bed. If she does, I’ll read her two stories when I get home.”

“Bribery is always the best idea,” Sam agrees. “Love you, brother.”

“Love you, sis.” His phone goes dark as she hangs up.

Priestly sits back and grabs his bag off the side table, setting it next to him on the bed. He runs through the day in his head. He really hadn’t known what to expect. Thought it might be a crazy waste of time. He’d always seemed to attract the closet cases – the truckers, the ministers, the city council members; some of them married…drawn to his outgoing personality and striking appearance like he was everything they wished they could be. They always assumed he was available, willing. Or willing if the price was right. He wasn’t. Those who assumed he was were disinvited from darkening the door of the sandwich shop – permanently. Sometimes he gleefully told them they could never afford him if they had the nerve to bring up the possibility of trading money for…services. He was no one’s bitch.

Walker is different. Sure, he’s a closet case, no doubt about it, but he never assumed or expected. He’s careful. Giving. Respectful. _Fucking thoughtful._ And gorgeous to boot. Tall and lean with muscles so defined Priestly could easily trace the outline of each one with a finger if he wanted to. He definitely wants to. Broad shoulders and strong hands large enough to betray the size of his cock. Hazel eyes a color Priestly can’t quite identify because they’re no single color. Hair a bit longer than he would have expected on a lawman, but it suits him and _it was awesome to hold onto today_. He’d been so generous; allowing Priestly whatever he asked while he blew him better than anyone ever had. Even better than the first time at the bar and that’s saying something.

Priestly thinks about how easy it had been to talk to him. How he listened and seemed genuinely interested in his life. He wasn’t treating him like some fuck toy or some kind of sugar baby to be bought. It was…good. And he’d told Priestly almost as much about himself over multiple beers as Priestly had offered up to him. Honestly, Walker fucking fascinated him. He’d never known another Texas Ranger, but Walker smashed every stereotype of every cop he’d ever interacted with, or been propositioned by, to smithereens. Walker seems attentive. Caring. The furthest thing from a douchebag control freak in bed. Smart. Obviously competent to have reached his current job level. Responsible. He seems to actually live by the laws he enforces; he really doesn’t seem the type to try to game the system or use his status to get something for himself at the expense of others.

Their chemistry is off the charts. Even if Priestly allows as how it’s been at least a couple of years - not counting their one night together last fall - since he’s had anyone else’s lips on him, he still can’t remember a time when he was this hungry for someone – so hungry that he offered to shelve a conversation for an hour – a conversation he _knew_ he should be having _before_ anything happened, just to lay some ground rules and figure out why in the world this man wanted to meet him in the middle of nowhere after three months apart.

He’d tried to enjoy their one-night stand for the erotic memory that it was and not wish for it to be anything more than that. But it nagged at him. He found himself thinking about their night in the bar when he was alone in his bed, past 1:00 am, jerking off. When he was _working_ there he found his eyes wandering to the place where it happened multiple times over the course of every shift. It wouldn’t leave him alone and honestly, he really didn’t want it to.

This is more than just the chance to fulfill his carefully-controlled desires though. It’s true that his work and family are all-consuming and bringing in anyone new always felt too risky with a child in the house and people depending on him. There isn’t _time_ for anything like a relationship and the appeal of the release of a quick fuck in the back of a club on a regular basis had lost its shine for him a few years ago. He’s always been the one to hold his family together. The middle kid. The glue between the other two. His family comes first. That means that it comes before anything he might want for himself. He took a risk kissing Walker that night at the bar, opening that door, and he’s cursed himself many days since for doing it because it made him want more than what comprises his already-full life.

Priestly leans back against the pillows, replaying the past nine hours. Walker. Taller than Priestly, probably stronger. Trained to take someone down. Priestly’d seen that with his own eyes that night in California. Walker had gone willingly to his knees for him. Stretched his lips around him and let him fuck his mouth. Priestly closes his eyes to remember the view with less distraction. Hazel eyes locked on his, reading him, moving with him, taking him over the edge and down the other side. Walker made him feel every sensation with incredible intensity; turning on his brain as well as his entire body with their undeniable connection. Priestly shifts his hips as his cock seems to remember everything too. The sheets are clean. The bed's bigger than the one he has at home. Might as well enjoy it.

He tosses his sweats, pulls off his shirt, grabs the lube from the bottom of his backpack and slicks up his palm before returning the bottle to its dependable spot. He pulls the top sheet aside, lets his knees fall apart, and wraps a hand around himself, exhaling at the slippery pressure. He thinks about Walker’s agile tongue, working across his own in a preview of what he was going to do to his cock, then those long fingers digging into the muscles of his thighs as he sucked on the crown, tonguing the slit. Priestly's fully hard in no time flat, leaking at the sense memory. He remembers how Walker’s face relaxed and the lines on his forehead smoothed out as he embraced Priestly's cock with his throat, how he moaned when Priestly threaded his fingers through his hair.

Fuck.

His hand's a bit inadequate by comparison.

Before he can think too much about it, Priestly grabs his phone, fills the screen with his lube-slicked cock, takes a picture, tries typing left-handed with his dry hand, desire compounding the difficulty. "You up? 'Cause I am." Presses "send”. Strokes himself slowly, carefully, not too hard. Not yet.

The knock at the door comes less than three minutes later. Priestly smiles, walks towards the sound, undoes the chain. Answers it naked, one hand still wrapped around his cock.

"You trying to kill me?" Walker looms in the neon backlit space of the open door, pink flush to his chest revealed by the white v-neck. Dressed left, the long line of his cock tents the cotton pants stretched over his thigh. His eyes go wide the second they fasten on Priestly stroking himself. He crowds into the room, blindly closing the door behind him and Priestly's skin vibrates as Walker's body, warm through the thin cotton, presses against his, walking him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down hard. He keeps stroking himself, watching Walker undo the string on his pajama bottoms, letting physics take them to the floor and ripping his t-shirt off over his head. He pushes Priestly back on the mattress with a gentle shove to the center of his chest.

Walker looks downright ravenous as he straddles Priestly on the bed. Tugs on Priestly's wrist until he lets go of himself. Both hands free, he reaches for Walker's muscled sides instead, coming to rest at the groove at the top of each hip, fingers reaching back to grab as much of Walker's firm ass as possible. Walker blankets him, fully hard cock pressing against Priestly's own and Priestly rolls his hips against him as Walker's tongue fills his mouth. And fuck it's good. The heavy, naked, heated mass of him grinding, seeking friction, one arm snaking behind Priestly's back and suddenly Walker rolls them so Priestly finds himself on top and he fleetingly wonders if he's going to get to save that horse tonight after all.

Walker breaks the kiss, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, and the way he's looking up at Priestly, so much desire, it steals Priestly's breath for a second. "Want you," the words rush out, "Fucking _need_ you," Walker closes his eyes for a second like he's trying to hold it together, "Please."

Priestly grinds down onto Walker causing his eyes to fly open. "Gotta tell me what you want," his voice sounds rough to his own ears, but he’s still in control enough to know he has to be sure of what Walker’s asking for. God he's so fucking turned on. Precome making a mess of their stomachs. “Gotta be specific, alright?”

He feels Walker’s fingers brush over one of his nipple rings, every sensation heightened by about 1000%, nipple hardening instantly under the light touch. The man under him swallows hard, "Fuck me, Bo."

That's not what he was expecting.

"Please, need you to fuck me."

He can definitely do that. Priestly’s not much for ingrained roles. He loves to receive and he loves to give – both incredible in their own way. “Yeah, I'll fuck you," he growls back.

Walker bends his knees, exhales in what sounds like relief as Priestly settles back on his heels between Walker's long thighs, the Ranger’s impressive cock arcing into the space between them. As surprised as he is at the request, he is _not_ going to make Walker ask a third time because _Jesus fucking Christ he’s gorgeous._ All of that power; biceps another half as big as Priestly’s, muscular thighs, and miles of unadorned skin with only an intriguing scar here and there; the only other mark on him the light circle around his wrist where he must usually wear a watch. Pebbled nipples, hard like his cock…like his fucking porn-star-proportion cock. _Fuck._ Priestly feels like he won the lottery – a man this capable, this…accomplished, trusting him like this; spreading willingly for him; needing him. Turning control over to him. Offering himself up. He’ll gladly take that offer.

"Touch yourself," Priestly directs, as he stretches to reach the front pocket on his backpack, easily finding the lube and a condom in their usual spot. "Wanna watch you stroke that monster cock," and he _really_ wants to see it. Watches, rapt, as Walker's long fingers wrap around his length. The way he follows Priestly’s command without question causes heat to pool in his stomach.

Priestly rolls on the condom, latex stretching taut around his width. “Both hands," he instructs, and Walker's other hand flies to his cock, gripping himself in a tight ring, one fist stacked above the other, shimmering fluid pearling at his slit in rhythm to the stroking. His head falls back, long neck arched, heels digging into the mattress. Priestly lets himself take in the incredible sight for a second; Walker, lost in the sensation and not at all shy for once, and it’s fucking beautiful and vulnerable and hot as fucking hell. Priestly keeps watching him fuck into his own fists as he dribbles lube over the fingers of his left hand, then over his raging, latex-covered hard on. "Oh, fuck yeah," Priestly encourages, "So fucking hot." His slick fingertips search out Walker's entrance, and he's surprised to find him ready to take two. "Mmmmmm, you weren't sleeping over there either, were you?' he smiles. He presses deep and Walker lets his knees fall apart wider with a low, guttural groan.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Walker grits out. "Was up to three when you sent that photo - oh _FUCK!_ Please, please do it, not gonna last."

Priestly quickly pulls his fingers free and Walker gasps, stripping his cock; he's close. "Slow your roll, man," Priestly says firmly and watches Walker's hands slow as he backs away from the edge he seemed to be barreling towards, fighting to get his breathing under control. "Yeah that's it," Priestly praises him. "Don't get ahead a me now. Wanna make it last." Kneeling, he spreads his palms flat against the crease between Walker's thigh and his groin, cock finding center. _Can’t believe I get to have him like this._ His hands pull, guiding Walker onto him. Slow press in, and in; into Walker's heat. Walker pushes back, taking him until Priestly's balls are against Walker's ass and his moaned "yes" over and over is hotter to Priestly's ears than the filthiest porn. "So good, so fucking good, _fuck_ yes." Priestly pulls back until just before the head pops out and then surges in, filling him, and he can't resist feeling the stretch of Walker's ass with his fingers, touching the place where they're joined, so hot and dirty to feel his slick, hard cock disappear inch by inch into that tight ring.

He grasps Walker's narrow hips firmly with both hands, rhythmically rocking into him, steady pace, not frantic, and so fucking perfect. Walker suddenly stops stroking himself, reaches for Priestly's hand on his hip and guides it to his cock. He fits his larger hand over Priestly's, closing both of their fists around him.

Priestly keeps up the rhythm, smiling, "Yeah, show me how you like it."

Walker gives a terse nod and guides Priestly’s fist, fast stroke up, slower stroke down, urges him to spend more time up by the crown, working just under the head. “Just like that,” Walker gasps out.

Priestly spreads his knees, heavy balls swinging with each thrust, moves one of Walker's ankles to his shoulder so he can go even deeper, right hand trapped under Walker's. Stroking furiously, he can feel Walker tightening down inside, ass fastening around his cock in a superb, perfect squeeze, feels Walker's grip strengthen over his own hand. He’s close. They both are. Priestly lets go of Walker's hip, reaches back, shoves two fingers inside himself, and his world unravels.

Walker arches his back. He makes a breathy, higher-pitched gasp, eyes closed tight in blissful concentration, crushing pressure around Priestly’s hand for a second before his eyes fly open and search out Priestly’s, pleading expression on his face. He shoves down hard onto Priestly’s cock, causing them both to moan in unison.

Priestly stares as Walker writhes under him, so gorgeous, so lost in the sensations. He feels the cock in his hand strain towards Walker’s chest for a long moment, then convulse with a spasm in perfect sync with Walker’s last desperate “ _YES_ ”; ropes of white fluid flung clear to Walker’s neck, the next shot splashing onto his chest, the third covering Walker’s hand and seeping through to Priestly’s underneath, slicking the way.

Priestly feels his balls contract, feels his own release build. Heat radiates through his limbs and it has to find a way out, the build-up is excruciatingly acute; every sensation focused on the place where he’s joined with Walker. He gives a forceful shove to bury himself as far in as he possibly can and spills his searing cum with a shout, flooding the condom inside the hot, tight embrace of Walker’s body.

Walker lets go of Priestly’s stroking hand, grabbing for his forearm, fingers digging in as he rides the wave. Priestly’s right there with him, never faltering in his rhythm, heart trying to beat out of his chest as he sucks down air to fuel the fire radiating from his gut, torrent of release continuing to surge from the slit of his cock. It’s so intense. The tsunami washes away any remnants of control and Priestly gives in completely; making sounds he’s pretty sure he’s never made before, moving in whatever way feels best, fucking deep into himself with his fingers, feeling the contractions of his own muscles throb in unison with those inside Walker’s body, the squeeze and release of Walker’s orgasm consistently milking his engulfed cock.

Walker’s grip on his arm starts to ease and Priestly slows his thrusts. Sweat slicks their bodies, Walker’s hair lays wild on the pillow. Priestly’s blissfully floating when long fingers lace through his, breaking through the endorphin fog, and he lets himself be pulled down on top of the sweat and the come and he doesn’t give a fuck about the squelching noise because Walker’s kissing him with a softness he didn’t think possible from a man charged with enforcing the law.

When they coast to a full stop, Walker whispers, “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” Priestly replies, trying to gather his wits. “That was – “ words fail him.

“Yeah, I know,” Walker saves him from trying to define what just happened in their indescribable exchange. He’s surprised when Walker playfully nips at his lip ring, giving it a gentle tug and smiling while he does it.

“I don’t think I can walk,” Priestly confesses against Walker’s collarbone.

“I don’t think you need to right now.” Walker wraps both arms around him and Priestly’s surprised at how much he enjoys feeling this…protected. “I needed that,” Walker says between kisses.

“Me too,” Priestly agrees. “Didn’t even know how much, but, damn.” His softened cock starts to slip from Walker’s body. “Uh, sorry, I gotta – “

“Yeah – go ahead.”

Walker unwraps his arms, lightly tracing his fingertips down Priestly’s back as he does and Priestly reluctantly shifts enough to reach down and hold the base of the condom as he pulls out. He sits back and catches a glimpse of his cock, completely obscured by white inside the latex. He looks back at Walker who’s been watching him the whole time. “Made me come so fucking hard,” he smiles at him.

“I live to serve,” Walker teases back.

“I’ll say,” Priestly’s astonished at how easy this is; this back and forth. He ties off the heavy condom and spies the trashcan just outside the bathroom door. “Shower?” Priestly asks.

“Definitely,” Walker replies. “You first.”

“No.”

“ ‘No’ what?”

“I’ll go first, but you’re going first too, come on.” Priestly starts to disentangle their limbs.

“Don’t know if we’ll fit in there at the same time,” Walker observes practically.

“C’mon,” Priestly insists, not willing to let Walker out of his sight just yet. “We’ll make it work.”

And they do. Careful shuffling, ducking under the shower head, washing each other’s bodies with reverence, pausing to kiss under the spray. Walker laughs at the crazy way Priestly’s soaked hair sticks out and Priestly shuts him up with wet lips.

They dry each other off. “Guess I should be heading back to my room,” Walker says as he scrubs a towel through his hair.

“Not gonna happen,” Priestly counters, matter-of-factly. Priestly’s standing in front of the sink, Walker towel-drying his hair behind him. He meets Walker’s eyes in the mirror.

Walker quirks an eyebrow at him. Priestly glances down, looks up nervously, “It’d be nice to not sleep alone for a night,” he admits.

Priestly catches the way Walker knits his brow. It looks like what he just said hit some kind of a chord in him, and he gives Priestly a quick nod, then steps up behind him, encircling Priestly’s waist with his strong arms. Priestly relaxes against him, leaning into his clean, warm body. Walker hooks his chin over Priestly’s shoulder, looking at the reflection of the two of them in the bathroom mirror. They couldn’t look more different. Walker, straight-laced, clean-cut, arms wrapped around a man with blue hair, tattoos, and multiple piercing. Yet Priestly can’t help but think how right it _feels_. It would never make sense on paper. But it wasn’t wrong. Not everything is quantifiable. This defied…well, it defied a lot. Convention. Expectation. “Normal”.

_Fuck ‘normal’._

__

They get ready for bed in silence. Walker brushes his teeth with his finger and Priestly’s toothpaste. Strips off the come-soaked bottom sheet and tucks in the top sheet instead, pillows on top of that, cotton blanket and comforter over that.

Nothing is said as they arrange themselves in the much-improved bed. Priestly in front, back pressed to Walker’s chest.

“We’ll do breakfast at your place in the morning,” Priestly declares, settling back against him.

“Deal.”

This is good. Better than good. But something’s eating at Priestly. “There’s something I gotta say,” he speaks into the dark of the room. He thinks he can feel Walker tense, but his arms don't move from their place across Priestly’s chest, thumb slowly tracing the edge of a nipple ring.

“Shoot,” he replies.

“We both have a lot going on. I know that. I also know this is the best weekend I’ve had in I can’t remember how long.“

Walker’s silent behind him, and Priestly can’t know that the slight bit of relaxation he senses is the result of the heat sparking in Walker’s chest at the words because they could have easily been his own.

“But I cannot have some kind of sad, Brokeback Mountain kinda life here, okay? If this is something, and I want it to be something, we gotta talk when we’re apart. And if you decide you can’t do it anymore, whatever we decide _it_ is, you had better fuckin’ have the balls to tell me. So help me God, do _not_ ghost me. Ever.”

Priestly’s reassured by Walker’s steady embrace. “I promise. I’ll be honest with you. Always. “

Priestly shifts minutely. “Sounds like we both have people depending on us.” He pauses and then puts a hand over Walker’s across his chest. “So, you think maybe we could depend on each other?” He’s a bit worried that it’s too much expectation, but…Walker had been so open with him. He wants to hear it out loud, to be sure that this could be a two-way street. He didn’t expect to feel like this, but, in some ways, they have more in common than he ever imagined, and it seems they could both use someone to trust. He’s not going to risk miscommunication when he can clearly say what he wants, not going to be a coward here, even taking into account the risk that it might be too much to ask.

“How so?”

“I gotta be honest,” Priestly continues to let his words fill the comforting, anonymous darkness in front of him. He’s never admitted this to anyone. “Sometimes, it’s hard being the one that holds it all together.”

The resolute circle of Walker’s arms maintain their unwavering pressure. He feels Walker’s warm breath tickle the back of his neck as he replies, “Believe me, I get it.”

“I think you do,” Priestly shoves back closer. “You can call me. You know; talk to me. Blow off steam. Bitch. Talk stuff out. Maybe I could do that with you too once in awhile?”

“I’d like that, Bo.”

________________________________________

Priestly opens his eyes to the weak early morning sun seeping through the sheer motel curtains. It takes him a minute to remember where he is. When he does, he smiles, reaches a hand behind himself and feels only sheet. For a moment, his heart sinks when he doesn’t find Walker there, but, almost as quickly, he remembers "breakfast at your place tomorrow" and hears the faint rattle of dishes and pans through the thin walls. He’d just assumed he'd be the one cooking. He always assumes that. Walker's managed to surprise him again.

He does a full body stretch in the king bed, relishing the peace of the room. He wouldn't trade Row or his hectic home and work life for anything, but this is...awesome. Nowhere to be right now. Nothing to get ready for. Except breakfast.

He steals a glance at the alarm clock to see the time. 6:30. They'd only slept about five hours, but it was a deep sleep. He woke up in the same position he fell asleep in and he can't remember the last time his night wasn't interrupted at least once by the sound of Sam snoring peacefully from her bedroom or the abrupt rush of a flushing toilet. Walker's solid warmth behind him apparently did the trick. The faint smell of bacon seems to emanate from the vents and his stomach gives a rumble in response. He stretches again and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Half an hour later, he’s made progress towards breakfast; hair pulled into another high ponytail; neatly slicked back, all strands held securely again by a hair tie, eyeliner perfectly applied, facial hair impeccably trimmed with geometric precision. He grabs a pair of board-short-length cut-offs and slips his absolute favorite Zeppelin tee over his head. Even throws on a little lip balm because Walker did a pretty good job of chapping his lips last night, but he's not complaining, smiling at the memory as the Burt’s Bees eases the dry burn. He decides to risk going barefoot for the short distance to the room next to his and locks his own with a turn of the key in the lock.

He knocks quietly at Walker's door and is greeted by gorgeous hazel eyes smiling at him, baseball cap backwards on Walker's head, light gray v-neck t-shirt clinging in all the right places across his broad shoulders and strong biceps, untucked over the waistband of his jeans, denim brushing the tops of his bare feet. He holds out a cup of coffee to him. "Morning," Walker says, smile widening, gaze lingering fondly on Priestly’s face. Priestly gratefully accepts the mug. The first sip smooth and rich and hot.

"I'll be dammed, this tastes like French press."

Walker only grins knowingly, commenting, "Gotta love a man who knows his coffee," before turning back to the work of chopping vegetables on a cutting board.

_Gotta love_...suddenly it's not just the coffee warming his stomach.

________________________________________

Before Priestly, Walker never thought much about eyeliner on men, but Priestly's does something to him. He appreciates the time and care it must take to apply, the perfection of the final result, the way it makes the emerald of his eyes fucking glow. It all works somehow.

_Do your job_ his brain reprimands and he focuses on chopping the ingredients in front of him into uniform chunks that will cook evenly.

"Can I help?" Priestly offers behind him.

"Not this time," Walker stretches out a long leg to kick a chair away from the table with his foot. "You relax," he insists.

Priestly sits down heavily, both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. "Smells fucking awesome in here," he declares. "What's on the menu?"

Walker _really_ can’t stop smiling this morning. He's not a great cook, but breakfast he can do. He learned a thing or two as a young teen, shadowing the cook on the ranch when he made hearty breakfasts for the ranch hands that would carry them until well past noon on a day that started before sunrise.

"Denver omelet scramble," he says as he dumps the chopped vegetables into a pan where they collide with a thin layer of hot oil with a loud sizzle. He steps back to the counter to efficiently whisk the eggs with just enough milk to guarantee they'll turn out fluffy and tender. "We got bacon, hash browns, a few biscuits in the oven, a fruit salad, and orange juice."

Walker thinks he sees Priestly’s mouth close, out of the corner of his eye, a mouth that may have just been hanging open. "You trying to kill me?" Priestly repeats Walker's words back to him from the previous night. "This is..." he trails off, "Fucking incredible."

"When was the last time someone cooked for you?" Walker asks over his shoulder, giving the softening vegetables a robust stir.

"Honestly, I can't remember the last time," Priestly replies.

Walker thinks his smile just might be permanent. His back to Priestly, he takes in the wonder in his voice. _Looks like I did something right._

He finishes cooking with only the sounds of the kitchen around him. He thinks he can feel Priestly's eyes on him and he squares his shoulders, making sure to move with the kind of confidence he usually has while wearing the badge and the white Stetson; the kind of confidence that abandons him when it comes to things like relationships or…this.

He uses a towel to pull the pan of golden biscuits from the oven, setting them on top of another towel insulating the surface of the table, softened butter and a knife next to them. He grabs the orange juice carton from the cooler, near-arctic from spending the night half-submerged in ice water, and pours two tall glasses.

He fills two plates to overflowing and drops the bowl of fruit salad to Priestly's left before sitting down across from him and soaking up the adoring look he gives each dish as his eyes sweep the table.

Priestly raises his glass of orange juice, "To more mornings like this."

Walker’s wide smile is completely genuine. "Absolutely."

Priestly drinks down half the glass before attacking his plate. He looks to the ceiling when the first bite hits his taste buds. "Oh fuck - Dell, this is incredible!" The nickname sounds natural. Like it was just waiting for 36 years to be used by someone who gave a shit.

No one’s ever called him “Dell”. It was always “Boy” as in, “Get over here, Boy!” when he got in trouble as a kid, like the time he was caught kissing another scout at camp and given a stern, religious talking-to about the dangers of experimentation and the very real threat of Satan’s influence when it comes to matters of the flesh. It was “Cadet Walker” when his drill sergeant at the academy was demeaning him, breaking him down in front of the other recruits before attempting to build him back up in his own, tougher, image. “Cordell Tristan Walker!" spit like a curse when he’d been late to complete his chores on the ranch and his father was determined to embed into his psyche that animals “cannot wait until it’s convenient for _you_ to feed them, do you understand?” – making sure he knew that he could never, ever put himself first where the ranch was concerned. “Corrrrdeeee” when his brother called from the county jail in a drunken stupor for the fifth time in a month, slurring the goofy childhood nickname given to him by their mother, pleading with him to bail him out yet again and promising to do better, even though Walker knew it was an empty promise.

It’s freeing to be called something that no one else calls him. It signals his brain that _this_ , right here with Priestly, is different from the rest of his life. Something apart from the responsibilities and the demands. “Dell” is new. In its short existence it has never been used for anything but pleasure and praise. And it had been given to him by Priestly. It was pure.

"Glad you like it." Walker digs into his own plate.

" 'Like it' doesn't even begin to cover it." Priestly reaches for a biscuit, slathering it up with butter and consuming a third of it with his first bite. "How the fuck did you get these so flaky?"

"I never kiss and tell," Walker smirks, taking a swig of coffee.

Priestly gawks at him, "That's what I always say."

"I just think that maybe I shouldn’t give up all of my secrets so soon. Might have to make you earn it." Walker looks up at Priestly after regarding his coffee.

Priestly steadily returns his gaze. "I've never been afraid to work," he grins suggestively.

"I'm counting on it," Walker flirts back and who the fuck _IS_ he right now? He feels so at ease. He doubts his co-workers would recognize him. He barely recognizes himself. He remembers flirting with girls in high school – the last time he felt allowed to try without the assistance of alcohol. It’s been buried somewhere inside of him ever since and suddenly feels like something just dying to be released. It’s…fuck it’s kinda _fun._

The smile lingers on Priestly's face as he goes back to his breakfast, slower now, savoring every bite. "Seriously man, this might be the best breakfast I've ever had. I love everything.” He takes a heaping spoonful of fruit salad to fill the void he just created on his plate. “Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Walker replies. "I wanted to do something for you."

“I’d say you already did something for me.”

“Whaddya mean?”

Priestly looks at him like he was born yesterday. “Last night, for one.”

“I think I’m the one that got the best end of that deal,” Walker blushes slightly as he remembers everything in high-definition.

“Agree to disagree,” Priestly gets the last word. "Well, let me at least clean up when we're done."

"We'll do it together."

They eat in comfortable silence at the small kitchenette table until everything’s consumed. Walker had been seriously hungry and a bit in the mood to celebrate the weekend when he woke up. He was glad he brought everything so he could do this for Priestly. For them.

Wow: _them._ He’s never been one half of a “them”. Not really. The possibility is a bit scary and a lot exhilarating. 

Priestly stands, burps heartily, rubs his stomach, and starts to gather the empty plates. “So fucking good,” he proclaims, clearing the table. Walker soaks up his praise like a sponge. He jumps a bit when he unexpectedly feels Priestly’s lips on his neck from behind. “So. Fucking. Good,” he whispers in his ear, sending a shiver of arousal down Walker’s spine with the smolder in his voice. The contact is over all too soon as Priestly moves a few feet away to stack the dishes on the counter and fill the sink.

Walker rises with a groan to join him for the clean-up. Priestly shoves the inadequate drying rack aside, jumping up to plant his ass on the counter to Walker’s right instead. He pulls a dishtowel from the drawer handle. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Walker can almost feel the heat from Priestly’s body, less than a foot away, helpfully holding out a hand to receive the first wet plate. “I started out as a dishwasher,” Priestly regards him with black-lined scrutiny. “Show me what you got.”

Walker chuckles and shakes his head, plunging the first plate into the warm, soapy water. He rinses it carefully and hands it to Priestly’s dishtowel-covered hand. He’s so close to him. Gorgeous lips, sculpted nose, intense eyes, only inches away from his face.

“What?” Priestly asks when Walker suddenly realizes he never let loose of the dripping plate.

“Just…you,” he replies, not looking away. Not getting back to the task at hand. He lets his eyes drop to Priestly’s lip ring, and he knows he’s in trouble.

“What about me?” Priestly yanks the plate from him and sets it aside on the counter, still wet. He reaches for Walker instead.

“You’re gorgeous,” Walker whispers. “Can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Walker’s still staring at Priestly’s lips.

“You know, my eyes are up here,” Priestly teases.

It feels like Priestly almost expects it when Walker moves to get between his welcoming, spread knees, between his bare feet dangling in the air. He feels Priestly’s arms come to rest on his shoulders, fingers intertwining behind his neck. Priestly’s thighs wrap around his waist as Walker places a soapy hand on the side of his face and pulls him in until their lips meet. Priestly opens up for him immediately. He tastes like coffee and bacon. Walker can’t get enough. Priestly moves with him, anticipating his next adjustment and shifting easily to accommodate him. It’s possibly the most organic give-and-take Walker’s ever felt and his heart soars to be able to do what he wants and have it returned tenfold, letting his desire, and not his brain, take the lead.

Walker reaches between them, leaning back slightly, and undoes the button on Priestly’s shorts, moving both hands to his back, sliding them down past the now-loose waistband to grab his ass firmly, smiling when he discovers that there’s nothing between Priestly’s skin and his shorts this time. Full commando.

They kiss, intensity ramping up quickly, his hands grasping Priestly’s ass, Priestly’s legs tightening around his waist. Dishes forgotten because who the hell cares about dishes when you suddenly find yourself with your hands full of everything you’ve wanted. Walker lets his lips roam over the exposed skin of Priestly’s neck. Licking, sucking, tasting him. He feels high from it. Priestly tilts his head back, giving him room to work, and Walker feels the hard line of Priestly’s cock against his stomach as he tries to press their bodies as close together as he can. His lips travel up to Priestly's mouth, Priestly’s hand on the back of his neck keeping the pressure even, ensuring their lips stay locked, tongues exploring, small moans escaping from both of them. He feels Priestly start to rock in his hands, searching for friction against Walker’s body. Too many layers in the way.

“Jesus Christ, Dell,” Priestly groans and suddenly he feels the younger man squirming, legs unwrapping, jumping off the edge of the counter, feels his wrist being pulled over to the small, completely empty kitchenette table. Walker almost swallows his tongue when Priestly lets his shorts fall to the floor and leans over the table, looking back at him over his shoulder.

Walker feels like’s absorbing the view with every pore; Priestly in nothing but his t-shirt, strong muscles of his ass spread open revealing a glimpse of the darker skin at his center, smooth skin between his ass and his balls begging to be touched. Walker’s rooted to the floor at the mind blowing sight – better than any porn – a hot flush washes over his body.

“Think I’m all out of engraved invitations,” Priestly says sarcastically, more than a slight breathless catch to his voice. “You waiting for a certified letter this time?”

“Fuck no.” Walker finally finds his voice, cock painfully hard. He quickly steps out of his jeans and pulls off his t-shirt, moving behind Priestly and letting his cock find the groove between the cheeks of Priestly’s ass, slowly sliding against him as his fingers reach down to stroke that tantalizingly smooth skin below, pausing every few strokes to go even lower, caressing Priestly’s balls.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Priestly runs his mouth, “Plow me with that huge cock. God you’re so fucking big.” The dirty talk would sound ridiculous from anyone else, but it lands on Walker’s ears like the best kind of encouragement.

Walker ruts against the crease of Priestly’s ass, pressing his cheeks together for friction. Chasing what feels good without asking. And _fuck_ , watching the head of his cock emerge at the small of Priestly back, retreating between the muscles of his ass only to emerge again; it’s so fucking hot. Priestly’s not complaining, so Walker leans into the sensation.

“Love feeling your cock on me; so fucking hard. That all you got?”

Walker speeds up, spits into his hand, and gives himself a quick stroke before returning to rub himself off against the eagerly offered, insanely hot ass of the man under him. In spite of last night, his balls feel heavy, full, ready to come. Wanting to come. Fuck he _needs_ to come.

“Fuck me,” Priestly gasps out.

Walker slows his thrusts. There’d been no foreplay. Priestly was nowhere near ready to take him. Furthermore, the condoms were clear on the other side of the room, ditto on the lube; far out of reach. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” he growls out, sliding his entire length across the dark pink sensitive skin surrounding Priestly’s entrance.

“Don’t care,” Priestly turns his head to the side, cheek pressed to the kitchenette table, hands gripping the opposite edge to brace himself.

“Don’t have any protection,” Walker starts to speed up his thrusts again.

“Don’t care about that either – oh _fuck_ yeah,” he groans as he moves with Walker. “Haveta have you inside a me…c’mon.”

“I can’t wait to do that,” Walker puts a hand on Priestly’s shoulder to get some leverage, “But –“

“Then don’t fucking wait,” Priestly cuts him off.

Walker looks down, sees Priestly spread wide for him, begging to be fucked and his cock wants to be inside of him – wants to fill him up, stretch his impossibly small hole and he can almost feel how good it would be with his imagination alone. Wants to fuck Priestly against every surface in the room. Wants to make it last for an hour. Fuck, he _wants._ It’s been so long. At least a couple of years since his cock was enveloped by the heat of another man’s body, longer than that since he’s felt comfortable enough with someone to really let loose. It would be so easy to take what’s being offered.

“Fucking need you inside of me.” Priestly’s voice wavers with the plea, breaking through Walker’s warp-speed thoughts. Walker pulls back, perfectly lined up. Glances down at Priestly, brow furrowed, braced for the force that’ll be necessary to give him what he’s asking for.

Walker surges forward, head grinding against the ring of muscle as he slides past Priestly’s entrance and along the cleft of his ass.

“Please, Dell.”

And that’s it. Walker throws his head back with a groan and shoots all over Priestly’s back, then gets a hand on himself and angles his cocks to unload right over Priestly’s center, come dripping down over the puckered ring. He gives himself a few hard strokes and the _sight_ of his come streaking that perfect ass, it only makes him come harder with the next pulse. “ _Oh FUCK,_ ” he shoots straight against Priestly's hole and as soon as he’s almost running on empty, he knows he needs to take care of the man still rocking steadily beneath him, and fast.

He quickly runs three fingers through the mess and shoves them inside. Reaching around to palm the head of Priestly's swollen dick at the same time. Priestly cries out as his cock convulses, pulsing white, filling Walker’s palm, ass contracting and releasing around Walker’s buried fingers. Priestly gets up on his elbows, fucking himself deep on Walker’s hand, cock twitching and spurting again in Walker’s grip. The incendiary sight sends a last rivulet of his own release flowing down Walker’s thigh.

Walker loosens his hold around Priestly’s cock, fist slick with come, and slowly strokes him down, leaving his fingers where they are, feeling his last tremors of orgasm from the inside. Priestly finally collapses down on the table, sides heaving with deep breaths. Walker releases his slippery grip and blankets his back with his chest.

“You don’t know how bad I wanted to fuck you,” Walker breathes heavily against Priestly’s slick skin. He slowly pulls his fingers free, feeling Priestly’s body grasp at them as they retreat.

“So why didn’t you? Kinda hoped I’d be more irresistible,” Priestly hedges. Breathing labored.

“Oh, you couldn’t be more irresistible,” Walker confirms. “Believe me.”

“Then…why?”

“No prep, no condoms, just…just didn’t want the first time to be like that.” Walker pauses for a second. _Just tell the truth._ “Want to be able to see your face the first time we do…that.”

Priestly cranes his neck around. “Oh,” he says like he just figured something out. “You’re a fucking romantic,” he smiles. “Gotta say, that’s kinda hot.”

Walker ducks his head. He sure as hell has never been called “romantic” before. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dare.” Priestly slowly stands and turns. He puts a hand behind Walker’s neck, guiding him down into a slow, sensuous kiss. Priestly gets his lips next to Walker’s ear and whispers, “I kinda like being the only one who knows.”

Walker groans as Priestly kisses a line down his neck, sucking briefly at his pulse there, letting lips traverse his chest, licking a streak of come from Walker’s collarbone where it stuck to him when he stood. Walker’s not used to feeling…physically worshipped like this. That’s really the only word for the feel of Priestly’s gentle mouth on his skin. He feels…cared for.

“Thank you,” Priestly says, breath ghosting over said collarbone. “You know, for…not.”

“Thank you for not fucking you?” Walker questions.

“I’m always careful,” kiss, “I always use protection,” lick, “I kinda lost my mind there for a second so I’m glad you didn’t,” soft suction of lips on his shoulder. “Guess you take the ‘protect’ part of ‘serve and protect’ seriously.”

Walker laughs and pulls Priestly close, “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t dying to do it.”

“Guess we gotta save something for next time,” Priestly replies. “ ‘Sides, I think I like your idea better.”

“Good.” Walker confirms. They’re back on the same page. But it looks like Priestly isn’t done yet if Walker’s reading him right. “What else?”

“I never lose my mind like that,” he says again. “Never. But – “

“But what?”

“You drive me fucking crazy.” Priestly laces his fingers behind Walker’s neck. “You’re hot as hell. “ Walker can hardly believe his ears. “You put your hands on me and I dunno…I don’t wanna to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop either,” Walker agrees, kissing Priestly firmly. “I just think you deserve better, you know, for our first time with me…doing…you know.”

Priestly smiles at Walker’s lack of eloquence. Mercifully, he doesn’t ask him to spell it out further. “You’re just…you’re good.” Priestly kisses his lips. “Good guy…good listener,” and damn, Priestly’s looking up at him with such warmth in his eyes. If he doesn’t say something soon it’s going to be overwhelming. “And a better-than-good fuck. Hot. As. Hell.” Priestly slips Walker some tongue and he groans at how little it would take to get him going again. Priestly just _does_ things to him. He pulls away reluctantly.

“You uh,” Walker gestures towards the bathroom, “you wanna get cleaned up? I can wipe down your back,” he offers.

“Yeah, but no. Don’t you even think about cleaning off my back.”

Walker wrinkles his forehead.

“I wanna smell you on me all day today. And when I get home early tomorrow.”

Perhaps he should be slightly disgusted, but Priestly’s words play right into Walker’s protective and ever-so-slightly possessive nature. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Priestly gives him a scorching once-over, small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Priestly glances behind Walker to the counter. “Gotta say, though, in my professional opinion, you completely suck as a dishwasher.”

The change of subject almost gives Walker whiplash. He gathers his thoughts enough to reply, “You do realize that it’s entirely your fault that the dishes aren’t done yet.”

“My fault? You’re the one who walked off the job.”

“Do I get a second chance if I can persuade the boss to give me one?” Walker whispers, their lips still inches apart.

Priestly replies, “I might be persuaded to – “

Walker licks across Priestly’s lip ring before grasping his jaw, tilting his head, and shoving his tongue inside, thoroughly plundering Priestly’s mouth and leaving him breathless again.

“The boss thinks you deserve a second crack at those dishes.” Priestly relents. “So get your ass over there and show me what you got, Cowboy.”

________________________________________

Priestly collects the damp towels in his room, drapes them over the edge of the tub to make it easier for housekeeping, and leaves $20 on the dresser – a silent apology for the crusty state of the bottom bed sheet. He knows he needs to pick up the pace, but he’s dragging his feet, neatening up beyond what’s expected.

He’s tired in the best way. Satisfied on every level. Stomach full from the incredible breakfast, head spinning at the light-speed unfolding of events of the past day, heart… _Fuck._ Heart kinda aching a little already that it’s over just when it was getting started. _Not “over”, you drama queen._ His brain tries to reason. But they live so far apart. Walker’s not out. He won’t be inviting him back to the ranch to meet his family. _Jump the gun much?_ Priestly chastises himself. He shakes his head in the quiet of his room, trying desperately not to get ahead of the situation. He always takes life as it comes. Adapts. Adjusts. Usually ends up ahead of the game. _This is no different._ He tells himself.

But he knows, deep down, that it already is.

________________________________________

It’s noon and the bus leaves in less than forty minutes.

“So, what next?” Priestly asks as he blocks the sun, standing in Walker's open motel room door.

“Next time, I come to you,” Walker declares.

“To me? Or for me?” Priestly smiles wickedly. “Or in me?”

“Yes,” Walker replies. _Yes to all of it._ “Fuck, I hate this part.”

“Me too. I’m gonna miss you, Dell.”

“Same. More than you can know.” Walker can barely think about _not_ seeing Priestly in front of him, in the flesh, in less than an hour.

“I’d say this was a great start though. Am I right?”

“Definitely.“ Walker casts his eyes down at the worn motel carpet. “Couldn’t’ve been better,” he says quietly.

“You’ll text me though – promise me no fucking silent treatment after you spend the drive home over-thinking this.”

How can Priestly know him so well already? “Count on it. I promise.” Walker clears his throat. “Alright,” he checks his watch. “We’d better get going. Don’t want to miss your bus.”

“Actually, I do. But I can’t.”

“I know.”

They stand there looking at each other for a long moment. Walker wants to burn it into his memory forever. Priestly gazes back resolutely, ready to take on the world; mohawk perfectly vertical and blazing blue, sculpted symmetrical facial hair accenting his incredible cheekbones, metal piercings glinting, eyes captivating bright green encircled in protective black. Jeans ripped at the knees, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck“ t-shirt not quite readable under his open-front long-sleeve plaid. Combat boots securely laced. Backpack on one shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Bo,” Walker tilts Priestly’s chin up for a gentle kiss.

“Text me some photos to inspire me while I do exactly that?”

Walker laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You get right on that.”

Priestly helps Walker load up the coolers, though they’re much lighter than they were when Walker unloaded them on his own less than 24 hours ago. 24 hours ago. Everything was different 24 hours ago. Walker feels like he was sleepwalking through life until 24 hours ago.

Priestly easily swings his body up into the cab of Walker’s truck. Letting out a low whistle. “Nice,” he comments on the F350 Ranch King, craning his neck to take in the roomy interior of the extra cab.

Walker shrugs, “Yeah, it cost too much, but it’s also one of the only ones that fits me.”

“My tall drink of water,” Priestly winks at him and Walker’s feels his face heat at the unaccustomed compliment.

_Yours._ Walker thinks. Nervous excitement at just how true that already is.

Priestly leans the seat back, arranges his backpack between his feet for the short drive to the bus station, and rests his left hand easily, comfortably on Walker’s thigh, dissolving Walker’s nerves on contact. He thinks about how anxious he was at the idea of even driving a couple of blocks with Priestly in the truck 24 hours ago; how he couldn’t even bring himself to reserve a nicer hotel further from the bus station because he was so afraid of being in this confined space with him. Now? It feels like Priestly’s always been there. Like he belongs in the passenger seat. Fits there as easily as Walker fits in the driver’s seat. Now, his presence calms Walker’s nerves. The exact opposite of what he feared 24 hours ago.

Walker steals one look at Priestly on the way to the station. Tongue worrying at his lip ring the only outward sign that he’s stressing the separation and Walker has to look away or risk driving right past the fucking bus like he wants to with every fiber of his being.

________________________________________

He couldn’t bring himself to actually watch the bus pull out and head west when he had to head east. The last thing he saw, he recalls fondly, just minutes ago, was Priestly flipping off someone who made some rude comment about him as he ascended the stairs to the Greyhound. It took every ounce of restraint for Walker to not step in and threaten to beat some manners into the rude sonofabitch, but he also knows for a fact that Priestly can handle himself.

He decides to pull over for a Coke for the road, just to do something habitual, normal, something to get his mind back into his daily life and daily responsibilities and try to remember all the reasons why he can’t just follow the bus back to California.

While he sits in the drive thru, his phone buzzes.

The screen reads “Bo” at the top, the name he entered last night to match up with a phone number that he’s no longer afraid to dial. Priestly’s personal cell. No more calling the shop.

When no further messages appear, Walker sets the phone down, reluctantly lifting his fingers from the screen the same way Priestly had reluctantly lifted his hand from Walker’s thigh in the cab of the truck less than half an hour ago.

He feels loose. Relaxed. Absent the usual tension that dogs him everywhere he goes. Perhaps he should be a little scared at how much he already cares about Priestly. The Walker of 24 hours ago certainly would have been. But, if he’s honest, he cared a hell of a lot already; ever since that trip to California. That hasn’t faded. Not one iota. Only now, he’s not in it alone. He has someone who seems to like him for _him._ The _real_ him. Someone who isn’t scared off by his awkward insecurities, his career, or the secrets he keeps from his family.

And Priestly is far from just “someone”. Confident, responsible, giving, as well as a irreverent, playful, self-sacrificing total badass who loves his family, is talented at his work, and basically fucked him into next week. Priestly had outpaced his wildest hopes by a mile.

Walker feels more like himself than he ever has. More alive. He’s wide awake now and no longer interested in purely reacting to what life throws at him. In being the guy who only puts out other people’s fires. It might be time to start figuring out how to work towards a more honest existence somehow, inspired by a savior with a blue Mohawk and pierced nipples.

_His_ savior.


	3. Fuck It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two long months since Walker met up with Priestly in New Mexico, when a stroke of pure dumb luck lands him back in Santa Cruz for four full days and Priestly's going to make sure Walker's not sleeping alone while he's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit long and a lot heated. Walker and Priestly are very, VERY into each other and this thing between them is just getting stronger.

Walker isn't a religious man but something like this makes him wonder if there isn’t something to divine intervention.

He’d just gotten back from an appointment in another county when his Captain called him to his office with the news that the case he wrapped last year, the one where the suspect was extradited from Texas to California, needs him to testify at the trial. In person. In three weeks. The department will fly him out and put him up in a hotel for a full four days. When he asks where in California he’ll be going, he can’t quite believe it when his Captain says “Santa Cruz”.

It had been two months since he met Priestly in New Mexico. It may have been the most excruciatingly slow two months of his life. He tried to stay busy, like always, but he found his mind wandering to that short weekend whenever he was doing something that didn't require his full attention. Driving, cleaning stalls, stakeouts, even sleeping and he'd wake up with an urgent hard on and an aching feeling in his chest.

The texts had helped ease the ache some. They started out tentative.

And that's how it went for the first week. By the second week, he sent Priestly the link to an app that would encrypt the content of their text messages to ensure privacy.

Walker quickly discovered that there's something about the disembodied anonymity of long-distance phone sex that frees him to say things he'd never say face-to-face. By now, he has to be careful where he checks his messages due to the fact that he’s gotten so comfortable with it and Priestly has no filter whatsoever.

Walker squirms in his chair, gives his colleague a very serious, "I'm sorry, I gotta take this outside," and makes a beeline for the tinted window privacy of his truck, texting, "Don't have long," when he's closed the door, slouched in his seat, and opened his fly.

Instead of a texted reply, Walker’s phone rings and he answers immediately, greeted by Priestly’s heavy breathing and rhythmic grunts. "Don't need long. C'mon, tell me what you wanna do to me," Priestly pleads.

Walker quickly puts the phone on speaker to free up his hands and grabs some tissues from the box between the seats, one hand grasping his cock, the other gripping the tissues which he'll need at the ready in less than a minute, if his recent experiences with phone sex with Priestly are any indication. There's no time for any kind of a warm-up so he gets right to it. "Wanna play with your balls." Walker imagines Priestly's heavy, smooth-skinned sac weighty in his palm, and drops his own hand lower to roll his own.

"Yeah, fuck that feels good," Priestly swears into the phone. "You doin' it too?"

"Fuck yeah," he groans.

"Wanna see," Priestly growls, even though he knows better than to ask because there is no way in hell Walker would never send dick pics, even with the encryption. "Want your hands on me."

Walker keeps his voice low, intimate, "Gonna put my hands on that perfect ass, spread you open." Priestly moans and Walker's hand picks up the pace, stroking furiously.

"You hard?" Priestly breathes out.

It’s so easy for Walker to picture it. "Fucking hard as nails looking at you all open for me." Walker feels his balls tense at the image in his mind. "I'm right there behind you, so fucking ready, you can fuck yourself on my cock whenever you need to, I'm right there."

"Oh God," Priestly sounds like he's using every ounce of effort to keep his voice down and Walker's guessing he's added a third finger. "So fucking big."

"You make me so fucking big. Wanna watch you take it. Wanna come inside you." Walker feels his orgasm start to crest and he holds a fist full of tissues against the wide head of his cock, tightening the ring of his fingers just below the crown. " I wanna feel you - so hot and tight."

"Yeah, oh fuck, wanna feel you come inside me, fuck I'm coming, Ah!" Priestly's bitten-off, muffled cry opens the floodgates and Walker's balls contract, pumping a white-hot river into the tissues.

It takes Walker a second to remember Priestly can’t actually see him, but he’s still listening, still wanting Walker to talk him through it. "Jesus Christ, you made me come so hard, oh _fuck_ ," and now it's nothing but ragged breaths and small sounds of pleasure filling the cab of the truck until the waves ebb to silence.

"Gotta say," Priestly's voice sounds spent on the other end of the line, "You make mandatory work breaks a hell of a lot more worthwhile."

"You're at work?!"

"Yeah, covering the late shift. Aren't _you_ at work?"

"Yeah but I'm out in my truck. Where are you?"

"Let's just say no one else ever volunteers to spend their dinner break organizing the storeroom."

"I can't believe you just did that at work." The heat in Walker's voice is most definitely _not_ coming from thinking about fucking Priestly in the storage closet of the sandwich shop with the possibility of customers mere yards away, they'd have to keep silent, or else -

"You thinking about fucking me in the storeroom?" Priestly interrupts the long pause.

"I am now." And he _really_ is. So many years spent carrying the secret of his sexuality, of hiding it… the mere idea of doing something with Priestly anywhere _close_ to out in the open brings an unexpected adrenaline rush.

"Good," Priestly teases. "Don't worry, there's a scrub sink in here. Employees will definitely wash hands thoroughly before returning to work."

"That was literally the last thing on my mind but I have no doubt you're staying up to code." Walker's phone buzzes with an incoming text. It's Micki, his partner, asking if everything is okay with the phone call. "Shit, I gotta get back inside."

"I fucking miss you."

"I miss you more."

"Impossible."

"Thanks for an awesome break. Really took the edge off."

"Anytime, but maybe next time when I'm off the clock?"

"Hey, I can't control when I gotta scratch an itch."

And then there were the exchanges that didn't require tissue. At least not for same reason:

It had taken another week of avoiding it and two more check-ins from Priestly. But he made an appointment. It was someone highly rated and in a different town. Still on the list of approved providers, but somewhere where it was unlikely he'd be seen entering the building.

It wasn't as bad or as weird as he thought it would be. The guy was practical. Ex military. Gave him some writing exercises and suggestions about how to talk himself down when his brain ambushed him with guilt at the most inappropriate times. He let him talk about what he wanted to talk about and didn't press him for more.

Walker texted Priestly right after. The reply made his throat tighten with grateful emotion.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Priestly picks up on the first ring.

“Not bad,” Walker admits. “It wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be.”

“Glad to hear it,” Priestly confirms. “So…you think you’ll keep going?”

“I made another appointment.”

“Good.”

“Can I ask when you started going?” Walker doesn’t want to pry, but the whole idea of therapy as a normal thing is new to him.

“It was suggested by the social worker when my parents died.”  
  


“Can you tell me about it? I mean, only if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay now. It was a long time ago.” Priestly takes a breath, as if pausing to remember. “You know, my world fell apart when I was fifteen and it seemed like I couldn’t count on anything anymore. I felt completely alone. I would just break out crying when I didn’t want to, right in the middle of school. I started thinking that maybe it would be easier to be wherever my parents were than trying to struggle through every day.”

“But you asked for help?”

“Hell no! I didn’t think anyone could understand what I was going through. Felt like I was the only one on earth who’d ever felt that way. I totally shut Rae and Sam out. I didn’t want to be around anymore. Aunt Samantha could tell something was seriously wrong with me and she tricked me to get me into the car that first day; told me we were going shopping to get a jacket I wanted and she drove me to the therapist instead.”

“I bet you were pissed.”

“I was, but I was too worn out to fight it. That was the start of learning how to take care of myself. That no one else was going to solve my problems for me and that I _did_ have help when I needed it. I had to learn to ask.”

“Yeah, I think that one’s going to take me awhile.” Hearing Priestly talk about therapy like it’s no different than going to the dentist…he’s not ashamed of it…and he’s so confident in who he is…Walker begins to realize that maybe the two are related.

“You talk to me. That’s a start. And today was huge. You went. Like I said, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Thanks for pushing me.”

“I happen to think you’re worth it.”

Walker’s still in awe that Priestly thinks so highly of him. That he seems to care so much. That he feels so comfortable talking to Priestly, even about this. That said, he’s still a bit uncomfortable accepting a compliment, so he changes the subject. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you. I got some good news today.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I worked a case last year with a drug dealer here in Texas. Micki and I ended up bringing him in. Turned out the guy had priors in California and was extradited there. They want to fly me out there to testify at his trial in three weeks.”

“Where in California?”

“Santa Cruz. Can you believe it?”

“No fucking way! How long?”

“Four days.”

“No shit? My day just got a lot better.”

“I’ll be at the courthouse during the day, but I was hoping – “

“No way in hell you’re sleeping alone while you’re here, Cowboy.”

“Mindreader.” Walker’s amazed at how easy this feels. He didn’t even have to ask. So relieved that they’re, apparently, still on the same page.

“They don’t want your partner to come? Micki, right?”

“Nope, I won the lottery this time. My Captain probably thought it was weird that I was so happy to go.”

“How long have you and Micki been working together?

“About seven years.”

“He a good guy? You like working with him?”

“ _She’s_ a great Ranger and yes, she’s a really good partner.” Walker thinks about all ways he could describe Micki. “Partner” doesn’t seem to cut it. “She’s my closest friend,” he adds. “She’s always had my back.”

“I’m sure you’ve got hers too.”

“There are a lotta days where we keep each other going.”

“Well, I’m glad they want her to sit this one out.”

“I’m sure she’s glad too.”

“I can’t fucking wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you too.”

________________________________________

Walker feels like he’s done nothing but check the calendar, then the clock, then his watch with increasing frequency over the next three weeks. He tries to focus on work and chores, but he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. Four days. With Priestly. And on the Ranger’s dime no less. He’ll gladly endure the long days in court. He feels a bit ridiculous, keyed up every minute of every day, like an infatuated teenager. Like some kind of reward is waiting for him in California. A gorgeous, intelligent, pierced, tattooed reward. It should feel fragile. It’s all so new. But there’s a strange absence of fear. It’s pure excitement and maybe that’s reckless and risky, and that’s definitely not Walker’s usual way of approaching things, but Priestly feels like he’s more than worth taking a risk on.

________________________________________

Priestly’s phone alerts and he grabs for it – he’s been checking it entirely too often all day long. It’s the message he’s been hoping to get. As much as he’s told himself to just roll with it, he’s half out of his mind most of the time thinking about Walker. The way he’s played right along on the phone sex - it’s fucking scorching. Priestly can hardly believe the filth that falls on his grateful ears from the mouth of the reluctant guy he met up with in New Mexico. Things are moving faster than he expected and it’s probably good that they’re a few states apart because it’s heated up to the point that Priestly can’t imagine much need for clothes if they lived closer. He hates the distance, and he’s grateful for it. It’s encouraged them to talk. Walker seems to speak more freely when it’s not face-to-face. He can feel Walker’s increased level of trust through their conversations and it’s damn rewarding. It’s been a long time since he let himself want someone like this. Even longer since he wanted to invest the time to set the groundwork for more than a few hookups. There’s just something about Walker. He can’t shake it. He’s so appreciative, like he never thinks he deserves anything good and _that’s just fucking nuts_ because he’s competent, gorgeous, patient, smart, funny...he could go on. Getting through the workday is just a means to an end, the reward being Walker’s voice that can feel like a physical sensation over his skin– winding him up or calming him down. Making him feel valued. Walker’s there, caring about how _his_ day went from hundreds of miles away. They talk almost every night.

________________________________________

Priestly rushes home after Tish gives him a smirk and tells him to leave already. Tells him she can’t deal with him checking the clock every other second. Row and Sam are nowhere to be seen, but a note on the kitchen counter tells him they left for the park right before he got there. He has the house to himself.

He peels off his clothes from the day and jumps in the shower. Scrubs his body thoroughly and makes sure everything’s trimmed to perfection, especially where it counts. He's so amped up just thinking about getting to see Walker that his cock's been half hard for the last few hours. The intensity of his longing surprises him a bit and scares him a bit more, if he’s honest, but the edgy teeth of fear have an exciting bite too. Yes, it’s a fucking risk, and that’s heightening the anticipation. He’s surprised how willing he is jump in. But fuck it. He’ll figure it out like he always does.

He cleans everything; soapy fingers inside and out and he allows himself to linger, hit that sensitive spot just right, pauses to rub the dense bundle of nerves and his cock rises to full attention. He'll never last tonight, unless...he fucks his own fingers, one leg up in the built-in shower seat, sudsy fist slicking his cock and he plays with his balls, fingers pulling out and stroking over his soapy, dripping wet hole, teasing himself, thinking about Walker doing the same thing to his sensitive entrance. Priestly feathers his fingers over the head and touches the slit as his brain supplies the image of Walker stripping his own cock with both hands while he fucked him the last time they were together. It’s an image he’s gone to many times over the last few months, and it’s almost a surprise when he starts coming immediately; body responding to his thoughts like they’re a physical thing. He feels the hot flood pulse against the impossibly light touch of his fingers. Okay. Fuck. Maybe now he'll be able to last a bit longer tonight if…if it goes the way he hopes it will. The orgasm in the shower barely calms his erection.

Priestly dries off and opens the locked drawer next to his bed. Tonight with Walker, well, there's some unfinished business and he wants to be ready. The black one. Might not be enough, but it's a good start. He lubes up the thick plug and slowly pushes it in until it's securely seated inside him. He breathes slowly, deliberately, and tries _not_ to imagine what it might feel like if the intrusion were thicker and longer and curved slightly, warm and alive and attached to one very hot Texas Ranger.

He rummages through his dresser drawers, then his closet. The sleek black briefs, the ones he's considered to be "lucky" ever since he was wearing them their first time together at the bar, dark green v-neck that shows off his entire neck tattoo, emblazoned with “I’m not weird, I’m a limited edition”. He grins at the possibility that the shirt will coax a smile from Walker too. He chooses the black denim jeans with the extra rivets and square studs around the pockets, and the denim shirt with the embroidered roses in cream-colored thread; Western style and found in a thrift shop after that weekend in New Mexico. It reminded him of his Cowboy and just so happened to fit perfectly. _His Cowboy_ – the first version of that particular phrase came out of Sam’s mouth when she was teasing him over how relaxed he was when he got back after “that weekend with your cowboy”. He’s not sure when it took up residence in his brain. It just did and he doesn’t care if it’s accurate or not. Doesn’t care that no commitments have been made. It’s how he thinks of Walker and he even told himself a few times to back the hell off – _don’t get ahead of reality._ He’s told that particular voice, several times, to shut the fuck up and let him enjoy this. He spikes up his mohawk, trims the hair on his face to just a shadow, and throws on some eyeliner.

In spite of how much electronic contact they’ve had over the past two months, Priestly's stomach flutters knowing that Walker's this close, and about to be much closer. He's tried to take it slow. Tried to keep his expectations down. But the more he learns about Walker, the more he cares. The more he cares, the more he starts to hope and the more that hope starts to outpace any reservations.

He leaves Sam a note written on the back of the one she’d left him. "I'm with Walker. I've got my phone. Call me if you need anything. Don't wait up. I'll be staying over. We're at the Paradox." She knows all about it. Helped him dye his hair black a few days ago and kissed him on the cheek saying she loves seeing him happy like this. Even Row picked up on it, leaving her Woody action figure from Toy Story next to his plate at breakfast every day last week because her mom told her that her Duncle B likes cowboys.

Priestly could walk to the hotel but there's the not-so-small matter of the plug he's wearing, so he shells out for an Uber instead. Walker texted him there'd be a key waiting for him at the front desk and he should just come up and let himself in.

________________________________________

He checks himself in the mirrored chrome of the elevator on the way up. He's still getting used to the black hair, but he'd tired of the burgundy and he has to admit the contrast brings out his eyes just like Sam said it would.

He takes a deep breath outside of door #P215. His heart's pounding and his cock's leaking a bit in anticipation, plug stimulating him deep inside since he might have worked it to full advantage on the short ride over, shifting his weight in the back of the Uber until he had the base angled just right so the tip teased over his prostate.

He runs the key over the electronic pad and the lock releases with a click. He knocks softly in spite of the texted invitation as he pushes the door open. "Honey, I'm home!" he calls out playfully, taking in the first room of the two-room suite. No one's there. "Dell?" he raises his voice slightly.

"Back here!" comes the reply from behind the cracked bedroom door. He strides towards it, two months of pent-up longing propelling him towards the sound of Walker’s voice.

No sooner does he push open the door than he's grabbed around the waist and pressed against the wall by the strong arms and the clean, bare, freshly-showered chest of the man he can’t stop thinking about. Walker's wearing only jeans, hair mostly dry, and he smells amazing from the spicy, citrus bodywash clinging to the skin of the taller body pressing against his. Priestly instinctively wraps a leg around him, suddenly unable to get close enough. This thing between them has only grown. It’s so fucking powerful. All pheromones and lizard brain and zero rational thought.

"Missed you so fucking much," Walker has his hands on either side of Priestly's face, eyes searching over every inch, cataloging the new hair color, fastening on his lip ring.

"Shut up and kiss me already," Priestly replies, cocky and deadly serious.

Walker tilts Priestly's chin up. His mouth is open before Walker's lips meet his. So damn ready to have any part of Walker inside of him. He'll gladly start with his tongue. He’s more than happy to let himself be manhandled a bit, Walker matching him in the intensity of the kiss. Suddenly, Walker’s pulling him from the wall, kissing him as he as he walks backwards, towards the bed, dragging Priestly with him. And it’s so good; barely-there scrape of stubble, demanding tongue in his mouth, strong arms around him. When they reach the bed, Walker pauses to say, “I like the shirt.” Glancing down at the embroidered roses.

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me,” Priestly smiles back.

“I’d like to rub off on you,” Walker flirts unabashedly, moving his hands to Priestly’s ass, pulling him tight against his body so Priestly can feel his hard cock through his jeans. “I’d like that shirt even better on the floor.” Priestly’s more than a bit turned on by this version of Walker that seems to know exactly what he wants.

Priestly shrugs off the denim shirt and tosses it onto a chair, arms over his head as Walker glances down. “You are _definitely_ a limited edition,” he comments, smiling, as he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up and off, throwing it in the general direction of the pile of embroidered roses.

Bare chest to bare chest, Walker’s hands go for the nipple rings straight away, tracing them, flicking them, fucking Priestly’s mouth with his tongue as he does it.

Priestly hands go to Walker’s fly and Walker reciprocates. Walker steps out of the small heap of denim at his feet before taking Priestly’s jeans down with two fingers hooked through the belt loops. When Priestly’s boots stop his progress, he shoves him down onto the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees to unlace the obstacles. Priestly watches with growing impatience and curses himself for his choice of footware while Walker works open the laces with intense focus, triumphantly pulling off first one boot, then the next and finally taking Priestly’s jeans the rest of the way off.

“Got room for me up there?” he asks playfully and Priestly hauls him up, gets on his knees on the bed, and walks himself back.

Walker climbs on, and Priestly stares hungrily at the very long line of his cock encased in the gray stretch fabric of his thigh-length briefs molded to him like a second skin. So fucking hot to see it yet not see everything – only the high definition outline of Walker’s impressive length under the tight stretch of the fabric. He’s pretty sure he could pound nails with his own hard on right now.

As soon as they’re kneeling together on the bed, facing each other, Priestly reaches for Walker’s ass, grips him hard, Walker's hands fly to the small of Priestly’s back, fingers sliding down inside his briefs, between his cheeks and screeching to a stop when they encounter the firm silicone base of the plug.

"Jesus Christ, you're -"

"Prepared?" Priestly jokes.

"I um, fuck, how long -"

"About an hour. I seem to recall we have something we were saving for next time." Priestly gives Walker's ass a smart smack with his palm. “It’s ‘next time’, Cowboy.” Walker groans, then surprises him by pressing on the base of the toy, the deeper pressure makes Priestly grab Walker harder and small moans escape both of them.

“You get me so fucking hard," Walker grates out. "Couldn't get comfortable on the flight. My damn cock has a mind of its own. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Haven't wanted to stop."

"I had to get myself off in the shower after work just to get this far," Priestly admits. "So what's a guy gotta do to get fucked around here?" He raises an eyebrow at Walker, glancing down at his straining cock, “Whaddya wanna do about _that_?”

Walker's eyes are dark, dilated pupils eating Priestly up. "I wanna put you on your back," Walker pushes his chest with his full weight and Priestly lands on the soft mattress, unfolding his legs in front of him. "I wanna get you naked." Walker strips Priestly's briefs from his body in one lightning fast motion and the cool air of the room hits the heated skin of his exposed cock. Walker leans in to lick the smear of precome from Priestly's stomach, lips tantalizingly close and Priestly arches up into the sensation. "Want you to spread for me." and Walker’s deep tone melts across his skin like molasses…Priestly can’t bend his knees and plant his heels in the mattress fast enough; laid bare in front of Walker’s appreciative eyes. "Now you're gonna show me how ready you are." Walker sits back, frees his own cock, and Priestly can’t help but stare. Thick and a good nine inches…maybe ten at best guess. _Damn_. Fully erect, precome dripping from the head, landing on Priestly’s naked thigh. Walker leans forward to take something from the drawer of the bedside table, cock nestling against Priestly’s for just a second with a kiss of hot skin and Priestly could come just like that. He watches Walker take a hold of himself with one hand, tear open the Magnum with the other. "Show me, Bo," he encourages, eyes full of lust and hot as fuck. He’s watching Priestly’s every move as he slowly rolls the condom down his rigid length and covers the taut latex generously with lube. Priestly’s had men look at him with hunger in their eyes before, but never like this. It’s so intense, and Priestly wants Walker to split him open on that huge cock as much as Walker looks like he can’t wait to do it. He’s so sure of himself, looking down on Priestly with a confidence he didn’t expect to see when Walker made him that uncertain, chivalrous promise back in New Mexico – to make this version of their first time worthy. The plug’s probably not going to cut it, but Priestly craves a little burn along with that feeling of being filled completely. Of taking this man inside his own body and giving as good as he gets in the pleasure department. Fuck he’s glad they waited. But he’s not going to wait one second longer.

________________________________________

Having Priestly naked and under him has Walker dialed up to 1,000. And Priestly’s been wearing that plug…getting ready for him…out in fucking _public_ with that inside of him. It’s almost more than he can allow himself to imagine or he’s gonna come right now. He watches Priestly reach between his legs, grab the base of the plug, start to slowly pull it out, head back on the pillow, eyes closed. "That's it," he encourages. Priestly lowers his chin, opens his eyes, looks from Walker's cock to his face, smirks slightly, and pushes the toy back in with a deep groan and twitch of his hard cock on his stomach. Walker has to fight back a tidal wave of arousal at the display.

“So fucking hot the way you’re ready for me.” Walker praises, eyelids heavy with desire. Condom secured and slick, he reaches out to stroke Priestly’s thighs.

“Been thinking about you fucking me ever since New Mexico,” Priestly pants.

“So how long you wanna enjoy that?” Walker gestures to the plug in Priestly’s ass, “Or you want the real thing?” And it’s amazing how the words just fall so easily from his lips. Not porn talk, exactly, but comfortable, heated teasing. Priestly makes him feel so free.

“Want you to take it outta me.“ Priestly instructs. “Fucking need you.”

Walker reaches between Priestly’s thighs, firmly grips the base of the toy, watches Priestly grab two fistfuls of sheet. “Ready?” he asks. 

Priestly nods, “Do it.”

Walker pulls, adding a slight twist, and the plug pops free, exposing Priestly’s stretched hole for a second. “Oh fuck," Priestly curses, “C’mon, fill me up, Cowboy.” Walker holds onto Priestly’s hips and slides all the way in on the first push. Priestly writhes under him and Walker squeezes his eyes shut at the incredible feeling. So much heat. Perfect, snug fit. Divine pressure around his entire length. It’s so good to be exactly where he wants to be: welcomed by Priestly’s body without hesitation. He can take this because it’s being given and it’s okay to keep going – to give pleasure and take some for himself.

“Thought you wanted to watch me while you fuck me with that huge cock,” he hears Priestly’s voice below him, lusty, breathy, irresistible.

Walker’s eyes fly open and Priestly’s staring at him, studying his face, mouth open slightly. “You good?” Walker asks, not quite believing Priestly’s body embraced his entire length all at one go.

“I’m fucking awesome,” Priestly replies, shifting his hips slightly. “Oh yeah, like that,’” he bites his lip. “Now fuck me already.”

Walker spreads his thighs on the bed for stability, angles Priestly’s ass up slightly, cinches in that last quarter inch as Priestly moans. He leans forward, arms on either side of Priestly’s head, looking down on his gorgeous, blissed-out face. Eyes deep lagoons of green encircled by black sand beaches. Hard cock trapped between their bodies. Walker feels more than intense physical pleasure. He feels trusted, wanted, _needed_ even by this stunning younger man and that makes him so incredibly lucky. He’s going on instinct, because his body knows exactly what to do if he just trusts himself. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he does. They’re so close, so connected, face-to-face and stomach-to-stomach and Walker starts moving.

“Oh _fuck_ yeah.” Priestly keeps one hand balled up in the sheets and brings the other to the back of Walker’s neck. They’re touching from the base of his skull down to his throbbing, swelling cock somewhere deep inside the man under him and _fuck_ it’s good. Fucking miraculous the way Priestly’s moving with him, spreading his legs wider, like he’s trying to fit Walker’s balls inside him too. Lube slicks his sack as it’s worked down his shaft by Priestly body.

He feels Priestly surging up against him, seeking more pressure for his cock between their bodies, and Walker presses down as he thrusts, watches Priestly arch his neck. He’s so fucking beautiful. He lowers himself on his arms to slide his tongue into Priestly’s open mouth and Priestly sucks on it. Such a turn on to be inside Priestly’s body in two places at once. “Not gonna last long,” he warns quietly when their lips part.

“Me neither,” Priestly agrees, back arching for maximum friction, hips undulating along with him, sliding through the precome. He feels Priestly let go of his neck, grab the sheets with both hands and thrust up hard. “Jesus Christ, Dell,” he curses. “Yeah, don’t stop, c’mon, fuck me through it,” he begs.

  
Walker feels a corresponding surge of wet heat release between them whenever he hits a specific spot inside Priestly. _Fuck, he’s still_ _coming_. Priestly’s biceps contract, pulling the sheets so hard they rip free of the mattress, pooling on the bed in waves of Egyptian cotton.

Walker feels his cock massaged by the walls of Priestly’s body, quivering muscles of the younger man’s orgasm mirror his quivering arms, straining to hold on just a few more seconds until he no longer feels fresh, hot eruptions between them on each thrust.

When he’s afraid his arms are going to give out, he surges back on his thighs, forearms sliding under Priestly’s ass, hips and arms working together at breakneck speed, fucking Priestly back and forth on his cock. The impressive amount of white release coating Priestly’s body from nipple rings to spent cock is so fucking hot that Walker's pretty sure he’s gonna give him a run for his money right the fuck _now_.

Priestly’s pliant in his grip, letting Walker move him, use him however he wants, legs spread wide around Walker’s hips, ass stretched around him and he goes with it when Walker angles him up and gets on his knees for more leverage. Priestly’s intense gaze burns into him, “Oh fuck yeah, Cowboy, c’mon, give it to me,” he challenges, breathlessly.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” Walker gasps, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna, “ and Priestly’s so gorgeous under him, giving him anything he wants, lips parted, thick, supple, slick cock rocking back and forth on this stomach with Walker’s powerful thrusts.

“Come for me, Dell.” Priestly gasps in a breath to continue, “Don’t you dare fucking hold back.”

“ ** _AH!_** ” Walker pulls Priestly hard onto his cock, shoving his hips forward, going as deep as he can, as hard as he can.

“Fuck yeah,” Priestly urges him on, “so fucking gorgeous like that,” and Walker has no idea what he looks like but feels his hair sticking to his neck, body flushed with sweat, burning through his skin like purification as he feels the first wave rocket up his shaft, scorching release pooling against the tip of his cock inside the condom, bathing the head in intense heat, friction from Priestly’s body adding to the fire. And he’s still moving, still fucking in hard and Priestly’s riding him with such a focused intensity, reading his body, reading his face, purposely closing down around him and releasing him in rhythm.

And it feels like it could go on forever. Shot after shot rushing up and out, only to be trapped by the condom and forced back down around his cock. “Oh _fuck_!!” Walker cries on the last pulse. Leg muscles burning, balls tight against Priestly’s body, cock twitching, sweat from Priestly’s thighs slipping along his waist, Priestly staring at him in wonder, reaching out to touch the only part of his body he can reach, stroking his shaking thigh just above his knee. Single touch putting him back together, bringing him back to earth. Walker’s utterly spent, skin drenched, breathing ragged.  
  


Priestly’s smiling up at him. “You’re one hell of a ride, cowboy.” Walker gives him a sated, thoroughly fucked-out grin in return.

“That,” he leans down to kiss him, “was worth the wait.”

“I’ll say.” Priestly kisses back softly. “I think you’ve officially ruined me for all other men." Priestly’s looking at him, so open. So naked in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with lack of clothing. It’s a level of trust and raw emotion that hits him like a second, overwhelming wave – emotional instead of physical this time. Walker runs his fingers over the short hair on the side of Priestly’s head. Priestly closes his eyes and Walker feels the grip on his cock start to ease as Priestly’s body relaxes into the soft embrace of the mattress. He kisses along his hairline, down his ring-studded ear to suck on the lowest one; the one with the little ball in the center. Priestly’s thighs around him fall open and he turns his head to meet Walker's lips. It’s slow and sensuous and beautiful; bodies still connected, incredulous that he can have this. He feels completely intertwined with Priestly. He wants to hang on for a minute, to worship him a bit longer: so appreciative at what he was just given and allowed to fully enjoy.

He keeps kissing him as he reluctantly withdraws, swallowing down Priestly’s murmurs of protest. “Miss you already,” Priestly says.

“I promise I won’t be gone long.” Walker reassures him.

“You’d better not be,” Priestly replies, not a hint of teasing in his voice. “Gotta say, I thought it might be a bit more of a…challenge with that huge cock of yours but – “

“We fit,” Walker finishes.

“Yeah, somehow we do,” Priestly agrees, slight note of disbelief in his voice.

Walker’s pretty sure he’s talking about more than just the incredible sex.

________________________________________

Walker takes a full fifteen minutes after he wakes up to watch Priestly sleeping next to him. He looks gorgeous. Relaxed. Peaceful.

They’d let themselves enjoy each other last night; during sex and after. Lying in bed together and touching each other’s bodies, getting reacquainted after being apart. Walker teasing Priestly that he was obligated to check for new piercings even if there weren’t any. Priestly rolling his eyes while contentedly letting Walker’s hands go anywhere they wanted. While his hands explored, stroking, massaging, responding to Priestly’s satisfied sighs and small shifts in his body when something felt particularly good, he could feel Priestly’s eyes searching over every inch of his own body. He fought the reflexive urge to cover up, just let himself be naked, enjoying Priestly’s appreciative glances.

When Priestly’s stomach rumbled, they’d ordered takeout from a pizza place Priestly suggested. The online menu showcased all kinds of toppings that Walker was pretty sure had no business on a pizza.

They showered while they waited for delivery, washing each other off – nothing getting too heated after they’d both unleashed their desire for each other with such intensity, but everything felt easy and comfortable.

The pizza with spinach, smoked chicken, and a white sauce was unexpectedly good. The ultra-fresh crushed tomato and fresh mozzarella with basil on a thin, delicious crispy crust was unlike any pizza Walker had ever had. Priestly smiled, watching him enjoy it. Even fed him is first bite when he gave the chicken pizza a suspicious look. The whole night had been incredible. Looking at Priestly now, he wishes he could go back in time and do it all over again.

He carefully gets out of bed and gets ready for the day in court, moving around as quietly as he can because Priestly told him he didn't have to be at work until 9:00 and it’s only 7:00.

When he’s about to leave to meet the car sent by the county Sheriff’s office to take him to the courthouse, he bends low and softly kisses the shaved hair on the side of Priestly’s head. Priestly mumbles sleepily, cracking open his eyes, then smiles as he gets a look at him. Walker feels warm all over, knowing he's what put that smile on Priestly's face.

________________________________________

Priestly opens his eyes when he feels Walker's lips on the side of his head. It’s the first time he’s seen him in his Ranger uniform. He’s even taller with the boots and the Stetson. Large belt buckle centered over his large… “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “I think I just discovered I have a new kink.”

Walker ducks his head, color rising in his face. “You like the uniform?”

“ ‘Like’??? I wanna blow you right this fucking second.”

“I wish you could but…”

“I know, I know, duty calls,” Priestly sighs heavily. “They _are_ paying for this awesome room, so I guess I can share you. If I have to. But I’m not letting you get away that easy.” Priestly reaches out and tugs on Walker’s tie until he comes back down to his level bracing himself from falling into the bed, palms flat on the mattress. Walker leans lower to give him a gentle, closed-mouth kiss. “Sorry about the morning breath,” Priestly apologizes.

“ ‘S not that,” Walker says against his lips. “Any more than this and I will _not_ be able to leave this room.”

“So I guess I’ll just have to take care of this on my own.” Priestly snakes his hand under the sheets. “ ‘Cause this morning wood is _not_ gonna take care of itself.”

“You are going to fucking kill me,” Walker groans.

Priestly grins. “Just giving you something to think about during your boring day in court while I think about sucking you off in your uniform.”

Walker squeezes his eyes shut. “Stop, please, I’m begging you.”

“And you begging me is supposed to _not_ turn me on?”

Walker checks his watch. “Fuck,” he swears. “You’ll stay tonight?” he asks hopefully.

“It's my night to cook at home, but I’ll come over after,” Priestly confirms.

Walker watches his hand as it starts moving under the sheets and Priestly notices his neck starting to redden. “You are an evil, evil man,” he chastises him.

“Hey, this is all your fault.”

Walker groans loudly, stands, heads to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face before rushing through the bedroom with his hat down over his eyes. Priestly can’t resist giving a little moan just to see Walker’s posture stiffen as he tries to hastily make his exit. "Have an awesome day!" Priestly calls out in a breathy gasp and chuckles as the door closes decisively. Priestly starts stroking himself with serious intent before rolling onto his stomach, spreading his knees slightly, working his hips, and coming untouched from the friction of his cock against the smooth cotton sheets, pillow muffling his shout.

________________________________________

The day had not, in fact, been “awesome”, but days of boring court procedures and delays rarely are. Though it dragged on inexorably, even that couldn't dampen Walker's good mood, because Priestly would be there when it was over.

Walker's showered and lounging around in his cotton pants and v-neck when he hears the door handle turn.

Priestly saunters in wearing sweats and a t-shirt with a zip-front hoodie. He throws his bag on the couch, kicks off his Vans, and crawls straight onto the bed like he owns the place, not stopping until he’s given Walker a deep, slow kiss. “How was your day?” he asks, flopping down next to him. “And what’re we watching?”

“Day’s much better now,” Walker smiles. He picks up the remote. “We can watch whatever you want to. This probably isn’t your thing.”

“Don’t you dare,” Priestly swats the remote out of his hand. “I wanna know what you’re watching. I won’t judge if it’s porn. Actually, I hope it’s porn.” He turns his attention to the TV.

“It’s not porn,” Walker smirks, “It’s RFD.”

“RF…what?” Priestly asks, “that some kind of code for cowboy shit?”

Walker chuckles. “It’s a channel that has stuff like rodeos and bull riding. This is a cutting competition. It’s what Daisy does.”

Priestly looks at him, not comprehending.

“The horse I bought last fall?”

“Oh; oh yeah; did she work out?”

“She’s pretty amazing. I’m thinking about doing a few competitions with her.”

“Yeah?” Priestly takes a hard look at the TV. “So what makes one horse better than another?”

“Well, “ Walker points to the screen, “See how that calf is trying to get back to the herd but the horse just keeps blocking him?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like a battle of wills. How much the cow wants to rejoin the herd and how determined the horse is to keep him from doing that.”

“So the rider guesses the cow's next move and tells the horse where to go?" Priestly asks.

“That’s the thing,” Walker replies. “The rider does most of the work during training, but in competition, they mostly signal the horse when to start and try to stay out of the way.”

“The _horse_ knows where the cow’s gonna go next?” Priestly asks incredulously.

“Cool, huh?” Walker smiles.

“So these horses are trained just for competitions?”

“No, it’s a real job on a cattle ranch, moving a herd of cows to a new pasture when grass gets low and you have to be able to take one animal out of the herd sometimes for vaccines or branding without upsetting all the others. So a cutting horse has to be quiet and determined.” Walker gestures towards the competitor onscreen, “And that one’s gonna win.”

“How do you know?”

“They have to keep cow separated from the herd for two and half minutes and many can do that, but this one always looks like they're a step ahead of the cow. This horse is completely focused.”

“If you’re right, how much will they win?”

“Depending on the rodeo, $1,000 - $4,000 for first.”

“For _one_ event?”

“Well, that won’t go as far as you think. It can cost $200 a month or a bit more to own and take care of a competition horse…then it actually _costs_ money to enter the competition…then you figure in transport and boarding while you’re there…you have to get a hotel and food….you really have to win or place in more than one competition in order to break even in a year, let alone make it worthwhile.” Priestly’s watching him with concentration, as if he’s trying to learn another language. “Sometimes it’s worth it for the publicity, even if you lose money. If you want to show off the skills of the horses from your ranch if you’re in the business of selling or breeding them.”

“And you could do that?” Priestly gestures at the screen.

“Maybe not that well, but yeah, I can do that.”

“I’d like to see it,” Priestly declares.

“You would?”

“Definitely,” Priestly looks at Walker with pride. "It looks hard."

“It’s just practice.” Walker replies, “And knowing how to find and train the best horse for the job.”

“Modest sonofabitch,” Priestly scoots closer to him on the bed. The competition ends and Walker’s predicted winner goes home with first place. “Impressive,” Priestly praises his correct assessment of the winner.

Walker gives him a small, cocky shrug, like it’s no big deal. “Quit,” Priestly shoves him in the shoulder. “You really know your stuff.”

“It was kind of a requirement where I was grew up.” Walker explains.

“But I sure as hell don’t know anyone else who can do that.” Priestly gives him an intense look. “You know, it’s okay to be proud of the things you’re good at. You should be.”

Walker squirms a bit under his praise. Choosing instead to change the subject. “Okay; next one’s your choice,” Walker declares as he scrolls through the channels.

“Way to change the subject,” Priestly calls him out.

“Where I come from, it was just expected that you learn about horses. It’s nothing special,” Walker insists.

“I beg to differ.” Priestly rubs a foot up against Walker’s. “You’re plenty special.” Walker fidgets uncomfortably.

“Whaddya wanna watch?” he asks again.

Priestly recognizes he’s not going to get any further and takes the hint. “I barely know what’s on these days,” he admits. “I think I’ve watched more goddamn Paw Patrol and freakin’ Pixar movies with Row than anything else over the past few years.”

“Well, there’s all kinds of stuff on demand if you wanna start something?”

“Like porn?” Priestly smiles.

“No, not like porn,” Walker laughs. “If you wanna start a series from the beginning, we could find something good.” Priestly shrugs his shoulders. “You really don’t watch a lot of TV do you?”

“No time most days,” Priestly admits. “Been that way for years.”

“How about Game of Thrones?” Walker asks. “I’ve got my HBO Max password.”

“That the one with fairies and dragons and shit?”

“No, hardly. No fairies. There are some monsters in it and a few dragons, but mostly it’s about families and loyalty with lots of violence and sex.”

“Oh my God it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to watch anything with violence and sex. Not with Row around. Yes please,” Priestly confirms.

They pile the pillows up behind them and get under the covers. Walker’s arm around Priestly leaning back against him. “I could get used to this," Priestly

admits quietly as he settles in.

_Me too_. Walker pulls him closer and quickly plants a kiss on his head in agreement.

They watch in silence for awhile, until Priestly asks, “So those two that are fucking right there are brother and sister?”

“Yup,” Walker confirms.

“Gotta say, Dell, your taste in television is pretty varied. Horses and incest…”

“Well, I didn’t find it by specifically looking for something with incest,” Walker replies.

“So you were looking for horses and the incest was just a bonus?” Priestly teases.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened,” Walker replies sarcastically.

When the show ends, Priestly turns to him, “That was pretty good,” he confirms. “Why do _you_ like it?”

“I see a lot of shitty reality every day.” Walker admits. “People treating each other like crap. Doing stupid shit that changes their lives or the lives of other people

forever.” He thinks for a minute. “Sometimes the opposite of reality helps me relax.”

“I can understand that,” Priestly agrees.

“You wanna watch another one?”

“Na, we were pretty busy today. I’m kinda wiped out.”

“Sleep it is then.” Walker’s not going to complain.

“Nothing… _else_ tonight?” Priestly asks with a suggestive glance down Walker's body.

“I can come up with plenty ‘else’, but we both had a long day.” Walker just wants to keep feeling Priestly next to him. To fall asleep and wake up with him. It sounds perfect. “But what I want most is you bein’ here tomorrow when I wake up.”

“Me too.” Priestly smiles warmly, then draws his brows together, like he’s considering something, “Hey, speaking of tomorrow, I was thinking,” he continues as Walker yawns, cutting the TV. “I haven’t been out a long time and, well, I wondered if you’d wanna go out tomorrow night?”

“Out? Out where?” Walker asks. He can’t imagine anything he’d want beyond the man next to him and these four walls.

“I thought maybe…a club…up the coast a bit. There's one I used to go to and I haven’t been there in a few years and, well, I thought it might be fun.”

“A gay bar?”

“A club. Maybe you've heard of them?" Priestly taunts. "You know. Drinking. Dancing. Yes, gay.”

“I don’t dance,” Walker warns.

“Okay, then let’s just cross that bridge when we get to it?” Priestly asks.

“I dunno,” Walker hedges.

“You trust me, right?”

“Yes.”

“So…trust me?” Priestly asks hopefully.

“Okay,” Walker replies, slightly nervous. This is definitely out of his element. “On one condition.”

“Oh, you wanna make a deal now, huh?” Priestly’s amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Would you, um, would you consider wearing the kilt?”

Priestly regards him with an interested expression. “ ‘The kilt’ implies I only have one.”

“Okay, so… ‘a’ kilt then?”

“Deal.” Priestly agrees.

Walker feels his face heat at the prospect of getting to see Priestly in a kilt again. “Everyone there will probably think I’m your father.” He nervously flexes

his fingers against his cotton pants. He feels a reassuring hand on top of his.

“They will not. You’re not even ten years older than me.” Priestly looks at him until Walker meets his gaze. "What you _are_ is hot." Priestly’s eyes get a mischievous

sparkle. “Is it too much to ask my hot boyfriend to kiss me goodnight?"

Walker quickly does a double-take, looking behind him.

“Very funny,” Priestly acknowledges his attempt at humor.

“Just thought I outta see where the hot boyfriend was.”

“Shut up,” Priestly rolls over on his stomach, half on top of Walker’s left side, stretching towards him.

Walker meets his lips and they’re gentle. Sweet. Welcoming. “I’m glad you’re staying,” he tells Priestly, quietly, when they separate.

“Me too.”

Walker lies on his back, Priestly draped over his side, one arm across his chest, one leg hooked over his. It feels good to feel wanted like this. Like a missing piece

clicking into place. _Boyfriend_. Priestly said it like it was a fact. Walker likes facts. You can count on them. Trust in them. He hopes he can be worthy of that trust.

" 'Night, Dell." Priestly mumbles sleepily against his chest, warm breath heating the cotton of his shirt over his left nipple.

" 'Night, Bo." Walker replies, stroking slow circles on Priestly's back until he relaxes into even breathes, his full weight sinking down against Walker's body. Solid and real.

________________________________________

When Walker gets back to the hotel after court the next day, Priestly’s already there, a full array of Mexican takeout spread across the small living room coffee table.

“I got you something,” Priestly looks at Walker with what can only be described as hopeful expectation. He looks slightly nervous though.

“Yeah, I see,” Walker takes in the spread. “It looks fucking amazing. I'm starving.” It smells even better than it looks and he can’t wait to dig in. Tacos, enchiladas, all manner of sauces and sides. “Thanks so much for doing this. Is that ranchero sauce?”

“Yes.”

“I love ranchero sauce,” Walker flat-out beams.

“I wasn’t talking about the food.” Priestly shifts on the couch. “I got you something else.”

Walker wrinkles his forehead. “You got me…a present?”

“We’ll see...not exactly a present…maybe a present for _me_.”

“What?” Walker questions, curiosity piqued.

“You said you’d go out with me tonight,” now Priestly looks almost embarrassed, “and, well, don’t kill me but I wanted to show you off a bit.” He holds out a black

glossy paper bag to Walker; the kind that comes from stores Walker never sets foot in.

Walker raises an eyebrow. He snags a tortilla chip and pops it into his mouth with one hand while taking the bag from Priestly with the other. Pushing the tissue

paper aside, he reaches in and pulls out two folded items. Both black. Both not immediately identifiable. He can’t really believe that Priestly thinks he’s worthy of “showing off” so what the hell could this be? Priestly keeps his gaze focused, waiting for a reaction.

Walker shakes the folds from the first item. It’s a pretty innocuous-looking t-shirt. A v-neck, deeper cut than any he owns, but it’s definitely not cotton like the shirts in his closet. It’s some kind of slinky performance fabric and looks like it could be a bit small, yet a quick glance at the tag inside tells him it’s his size. He looks questioningly to Priestly.

Priestly shifts nervously. “Just hear me out, okay?”

Walker waits expectantly.

“You said last night you didn’t want anyone to think you were my father. Now, I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of that. ‘Daddy’ maybe, but – “ Priestly smirks.

“Oh God, please never call me that,” Walker pleads. “I never got the whole ‘Daddy’ thing.”

“Not a turn-on for me either,” Priestly confirms. “I was just trying to make you smile, sorry.”

“So you want me to go out with you…wearing this?”

Priestly nods. “And those,” he adds, pointing to the other piece of folded black material Walker pulled from the bag.

Walker unfurls item #2. Okay. They’re pants. Some kind of cross between denim and canvas in appearance but lighter weight and, again, they look like they might be too small. They have silver zippers where the front pockets would usually go and, he has to admit, compared to what Priestly wears, a somewhat conservative row of eight small domed silver studs descending from each hip as their only ornamentation. Priestly’s looking at him, biting his lower lip. “They look a bit small,” Walker observes.

“Just try ‘em, okay?” Priestly asks. “For me.”

“Okay, but I’m not leaving this room if you laugh when I walk outta the bedroom,” Walker threatens.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that either,” Priestly sits on the couch, looking like he’s waiting for Christmas morning.

Walker sighs and carries the clothes to the bedroom. The stretch in the shirt and the pants make them comfortable, but…they feel like a second skin in places and he’s not used to that. His legs look even longer in the mirror than they actually are with the fabric clinging to him and he has to adjust his cock to find a spot for it to fit. He can't miss the fact that its outline is very noticeable no matter what he does. The shirt cinches around his biceps and the lower neckline reveals the cleft between his pecs. He checks the mirror again and feels a bit ridiculous…like he might look like he’s trying too hard to not be the old guy with the hot young arm candy. But Priestly looked so hopeful, so…fuck it, here goes nothing.

Walker exits the bedroom. “I dunno,” he starts trying to bring down expectations.

Priestly’s eyes go wide. There’s definitely no sign of a smirk on his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out. “I don’t know if I want to show you off quite _that_ much.”

“Whaddya mean?” Walker asks.

“Turn around.” Priestly requests.

“What?”

“Just turn around.” Priestly insists impatiently.

Walker feels silly, but he does a slow spin. When he comes back to the starting point, Priestly’s flat-out grinning. “I knew I looked ridiculous!” he mutters, making a move back towards the bedroom, but before he can even take a step, Priestly’s all over him, hands running over his chest and down his arms.

“Shut up,” Priestly growls at him. “You look the furthest thing from ridiculous.”

“But you were smiling.”

“I’m smiling because you’re wearing a pair of pants that actually fit your ass.” Priestly reaches down to cup him in front and he draws in a sharp breath. “They fit perfectly everywhere, actually.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Newsflash, Dell, you have an incredible body.” Priestly’s hands feather over his nipples and Walker’s aware of how little space there is the pants for anything to…lengthen when Priestly starts kissing him at any point tonight.

“This isn’t ‘me’,” he argues.

“I know,” Priestly agrees, “And I am _not_ trying to change you, okay? I fell for a cowboy, remember? But for one night…well, you’ve worked undercover, right?”

“A few times, yeah.”

“Well, maybe you can pretend that’s what this is.”

“And we’re pretending…why?”

Priestly sighs heavily, “Because I have a fucking hot as hell boyfriend and I want to show him off, okay? Let me?”

“I don’t see myself that way,” Walker admits.

“Well then maybe you should get your eyes checked.” Priestly rakes his fingers over Walker’s chest like he can't get enough, easily stimulating both hard nipples through the cool, thin fabric. “Wanna suck you off right here right now.”

Okay, well, if it gets that kind of a response, then maybe he can wear this for a few hours. No one knows him here. He’d be the laughing stock back home if anyone saw him like this but…fuck it. Priestly’s got his hands in his back pockets now, pulling him against his body and he likes the way he can feel the heat of his skin through whatever petroleum-based product he’s wearing.

“Okay. One night.” Walker agrees and is rewarded with Priestly’s strong tongue pushing into his mouth, plunging deep, caressing his own. Something else occurs to him and he pulls back, Priestly's lips chasing his. “But there will be no photographic evidence.”

“Deal.” Priestly concedes with a smile.

“Can we please eat now?” Walker fakes a pleading tone in his voice. “Those enchiladas are _literally_ calling to me.”

________________________________________

When the takeout containers have been cleared from the table and Priestly’s getting dressed out in the small living, Walker takes another look at himself in the bathroom mirror.

_Like going undercover._ Might as well go all the way. Do it right. He’s agreed to this one-night experiment. He wants to show Priestly he’s all in, and it’d be fun to surprise him a little.

He picks up his razor and shakes the can of shaving cream. Not much of a sacrifice with the way he’s able to grow a five o’clock shadow in less than five hours anyway.

Walker slips on his basic black cowboy boots that Priestly suggested as the best option to go with the new clothes and finds him checking his hair in the mirror on the back of the closet door. He walks up behind him and Priestly stares.

“Just exactly how hot are you trying to be?” Priestly asks. “You looking to hook up tonight?”

“You like it?”

“You shaved.”

“You should be a detective.”

“Shut up,” Priestly teases. “It’s just…” and suddenly he’s twisting in front of Walker to face him, kissing along his jaw from the vicinity of his ear down to his lips. “Fuck, you look incredible.”

“You like it…better?” Walker asks tentatively.

“Not ‘better’, “ Priestly replies, eyes roaming over his face. “You have such an incredible jawline.” He kisses a line down the other side of his jaw to his chin, “I like seeing it more clearly, that’s all.”

Walker’s face heats under Priestly adoration. “There’s only one person I want to hook up with tonight.” Walker replies to Priestly’s earlier question.

“Well, I hope they’re hot enough to deserve you.” Priestly shoots back.

“They definitely are.” Walker turns Priestly back to face the mirror and wraps his arms around his waist. “You wore it,” he says, casting his eyes down at the wrap-around fucking black _leather_ kilt.

“We had a deal,” Priestly says matter of factly.

“Leather, huh?” Walker lays one palm flat on Priestly’s thigh, feeling the material. “Just how big a dry cleaning bill do you wanna have?”

“Oh, so you’re saying we might…need to clean this after tonight?”

“I think it’s a pretty sure bet.” Walker can hear the heat in his own voice. Priestly looks like a fucking wet dream in black leather and a gray short-sleeve v-neck of

his own, neckline low enough to reveal the head and wingtip of the blue bird on his chest. Black boots lacing up his calf to just below the knee. Black leather wrist cuffs, thin silver bangles as usual above one of them. Wallet chain going between one pocket of the kilt and a belt loop. Heavy eyeliner. Slight coat of clear gloss to his lips that Walker already wants to kiss off, black hair in a precise mohawk. He looks like something exquisite, spawned directly from the darkest corner of the night sky. “You look amazing,” he whispers in Priestly’s ear.

Priestly looks at them both in the mirror. “You do too.” He leans his head back against him, inviting Walker to kiss down his neck, which he does immediately. Priestly groans. “If we don’t get going, it’s gonna be too late.”

“Okay,” Walker breathes against his skin. "I'm good with 'too late'...could keep you here all to myself -" Walker tightens his arms around the man in front of him.

“Nuh-uh,” Priestly replies. “I’m taking full advantage of my one night with you looking like this.”

“C’mon,” Walker tries to persuade him otherwise.

“I believe we have a deal,” Priestly reminds him. “I expect you’re a man of your word?”

Walker looks up to the ceiling. “Fuck,” he curses. “Yes, I’m a man of my word.”

“Okay then,” Priestly smiles. “I’m taking my hot boyfriend out and seeing as how that’s you, you’re not getting out of this.”

________________________________________

They get past the large bouncer at the door with ease. Walker thinks that, by the looks of that mountain of a man, they probably don’t have many problems in this

place. _Did he fucking wink at me???_ And they’re ushered into the club.

It’s exactly the kind of place that Walker avoided while searching for a gay bar on his trip to California months ago. The music is deafening, the dance floor packed.

Lights and lasers and smoke everywhere and guys in leather chest harnesses and short shorts dancing up on the raised platform with the DJ. Shorts so short Walker

wonders for a second how their balls aren’t hanging out. “You know I don’t dance!” Walker feels compelled to practically yell to Priestly, just in case he still has any ideas, though Priestly is, thankfully, glued to his side which is probably the only place he could be and have a chance of hearing him.

“You don’t have to!” Priestly shouts back. “Come on, follow me.” He grabs Walker’s hand and laces their fingers firmly together.

They make their way around the edge of the crowded dance floor, bodies bumping up against them, air heavy with cologne and sweat. It’s total sensory overload and Walker finds himself wishing for a drink and perhaps a way back to the quiet of the hotel room.

Priestly leads him up a set of industrial gray metal stairs to a second level that overlooks the dance floor through huge glass windows. Priestly pushes through a pair of heavy double glass doors at the top of the steps. As they swing closed behind them, the deafening cacophony drops by about 80%, intensity of the endlessly thumping bass the only reminder of the crush of humanity and sound that they just endured beyond those glass doors.

“This better?” Priestly turns to him, crowding him against the nearest wall.

“Much,” Walker replies, self-conscious to have Priestly’s hands under his shirt out in public, though the sparse crowd inside what appears to be a VIP area doesn't even spare a glance in their direction.

“Kiss me,” Priestly demands, tilting is face up.

“Here?”

“Yes, fucking ‘here’. I promise this is a gay bar and it’s going to be weirder if you don’t kiss me. And since when do I have to beg for it anyway?”

“Since never,” Walker focuses on the man in front of him. It’s not difficult. In fact, it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world to dip his head and lick over Priestly’s lip ring like that draws him in with a gravitational pull every time. Their lips meet and Walker feels his slip against the gloss on Priestly's that tastes faintly of cherry.

“That better?” Walker smiles.

“Much.” Priestly looks up at him, long eyelashes and deep black eyeliner and Priestly’s fingers give a gentle pinch to both of Walker’s nipples at the same time and he stops caring where they are or who’s around them. He pulls Priestly even closer against him, trapping his hands flat on the planes of his chest, and pushes his tongue into Priestly’s mouth, met by slick, strong muscle rubbing up against his, lips sealed together. _It’s getting hot in here._

Walker feels himself starting to harden, firm, heated mass of Priestly’s body pressed so close, there’s no room for daylight , bass thumping, trying to bend his own heartbeat to its will in synchronicity. Priestly revs him up so quickly. Public kissing is one thing but damn if he doesn’t want more and this is not the place.

Priestly breaks the kiss with a wicked grin and a grind of pelvis against pelvis. “Feels like you don’t hate it here as much as I was afraid you would.”

“You wanted to bring me somewhere you thought I’d hate?”

“I remembered that you seemed to like watching the other guys at the bar. Last fall. And, well, there's a lot to watch here.”

“How could you possibly remember that? You were busy working that night.”

“I can do two things at once. At least two things at once,” Priestly says suggestively. “You thought I actually ever took my eyes off you that night? I couldn’t.”

Walker starts to feel his face warm. Still, even now, disbelieving that Priestly was attracted to him that first night. Incredibly flattered by the compliment from almost

half a year ago.

“You’re cute when you blush.”

“Cute?”

“Well, I thought it would be more cruel to tell you how fucking hard you’ve got me right now.”

Walker swallows, trying to will down his desire, but the sudden rush of _want_ radiating out from his stiffening cock is overwhelming in its intensity. “Is there somewhere we could…go?”

Priestly raises both eyebrows. “Already?”

“Yeah,” is all Walker can say and it’s reckless and probably a bit stupid but fuck it.

“You want a drink first?”

“No. There’s only one thing I want right now.”

Priestly’s pupils blow wide with lust. “I’m good with that,” he confirms and slides his hands from under Walker’s shirt, turns his back, reaching behind for more intertwined fingers and firmly grasps Walker, palm to palm, as he maneuvers them through a labyrinth of dimly-lit hallways leading from the front of the loft, further back, deeper into the building, past a dizzying array of private rooms in the second story of the club. They pass an employee with an earpiece in his ear and an iPad in his hand and they're directed on down the corridor with a nod of the man’s chin, a quick glance at his watch, and a knowing look.

When they get to the door at the very end of the hall, Priestly knocks lightly. No reply. “Thank God,” he breathes out and pushes the door open.

“There eyes in this room?” Walker casts his gaze around preemptively.

“No cameras. “ Priestly promises. “Not here.”

“And you know about this room, how?” Walker questions as Priestly locks the door behind them.

“I bartended here for a few months.” Priestly explains in reply to Walker’s interested expression. “It was a long time ago – feels like another life. Trust me, I like this life a hell of a lot better, okay? Now get over here.”

There’s a disco ball slowly spinning near the ceiling in the center of the room, throwing silvery sparks of light around them in lazy swirls. Rotating display of blue and green colored up-lights in the corners, defining the edges of the small space. There’s a large picture window on one wall with the lights of the city spread out below. The other three walls have the fuzzy appearance of acoustic tiles. Walker barely notices any of it. All of his focus trained on the stunning man who brought him here to give him what he wants.

“You drive me fucking nuts, you know that?” Walker trails Priestly closely.

“I’m counting on it,” Priestly quips back. “C’mon Dell, I'm dying for you to put your hands on me.”

“Gonna close the blinds?”

“Nope.” Priestly walks right up to the window and turns when Walker doesn’t follow. “What are you waiting for?”

“Someone might see.”

“I know.”

“You _want_ someone to see?” Walker's learning more about Priestly every second.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be in front and I’m not planning on getting naked. No one’s watching, but if they are, they’ll only see me.” Priestly smiles. He bites his bottom

lip and puts one boot up on a chair that’s backed against the window. He gives Walker a heated look as he plants a palm on each cheek of his ass and slowly starts to raise the bottom edge of the kilt.

“Fuck, Bo. I’d fucking come in my pants right now but I think they’re too tight.”

Priestly laughs at that and it’s open and free and beautiful. “You say ‘tight’, I say they fit you. Now get the fuck over here and put your hands on me. We can’t stay in here forever.”

_Why not?_ Walker wonders for all of half a second before he’s crowding behind Priestly, shoving his kilt up over his _bare ass_. “Holy hell,” Walker sighs

in appreciation, realizing that Priestly risked the chafing to go completely commando. The idea of him shoving through that crowd with so little between all those strangers and his cock…and the only person whose hands he wants on him are his. Walker can't believe how lucky he is.

“You bring a condom?” Priestly asks breathlessly. When Walker takes too long to answer he adds, “I’m just messing with you. I got you.” He holds a condom between his fingers, offering it up.

Walker practically rips it from his hand. His brand. His size. Priestly doesn’t leave anything to chance. He opens the snap on his pants.

“Now wrap up that monster like a present and give it to me already,” Priestly teases him.

Now it’s Walker’s turn to chuckle through his want. “Swear to God it somehow sounds hot when you say it.”

Priestly gets quiet. “I mean it,” he continues. “Give it to me. Don’t fucking hold back either. Anyone out there?” he gestures to the city in front of them, “I want them to watch you take me apart.”

Priestly confidence and directness always turn him on and Walker can’t wait to do exactly what he’s been asked to do. His cock feels like it’s throbbing with the now-faint, distant bass, skin stretched tight, making everything feel hyper-sensitive. The condom’s pre-lubed. Efficient. And it winds him up even higher to think about Priestly planning this. Taking him here _for_ this.

Walker strokes over the ring of muscle at Priestly’s center. “No time,” Priestly anticipates his next move. “I can take it if you just go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

And there’s something so hot and immediate about keeping their clothes on. His cock pulled through the open fly of the pants and Priestly’s bare ass, leather kilt bunched up around his waist. Priestly’s got one hand on the glass of the window and the other gripping the back of the chair. Walker quickly rolls on the condom and starts rubbing the head of his cock over Priestly’s entrance, which looks far to small to accommodate him.

“Trust me,” Priestly groans, as if he can read Walker's thoughts. He throws Walker a smoldering glance over his shoulder. “C’mon, fuck me, Cowboy.”

Walker grasps himself with one hand, moves the other to Priestly’s lower back, rubbing light circles, encouraging him to relax. Pushes gently, watches Priestly push back. He feels less resistance and gives an easy thrust with his hips, cursing as his wide head is engulfed by Priestly’s body. “That’s it,” he praises, “Feel so fucking tight, God, so good.”

Priestly takes a deep breath and pushes back again on the exhale, taking about half of him. Clear shine of the condom disappearing into his body. Walker can see the reflection of Priestly's face in the glass, head back, eyes closed, brow creased. Walker holds still, lets go of himself, moving that hand to Priestly’s shoulder and getting a good grip on him. He keeps up the slow rubbing on the small of his back. Can’t believe how far inside he already is. “It’s all you,” he tells him. Remembering the time Priestly got off in the storeroom by text message and how turned on they both were, he adds, “I’m right here; you can fuck yourself on my cock whenever you need to,” and Priestly gives a little moan, puts both palms flat on the glass and shoves back until Walker’s buried to the hilt.

“Love the way you fill me up,” Priestly gasps, arches his back, and leans forward pulling away before taking Walker back in in one long slide, all the way to the base.

“You fucking reach places no one else can with that monster,” he breathes heavily.

_You reach places inside me no one else can either._

Walker keeps control but it’s so hard to do with the dark reflection of Priestly’s parted lips, long lashes, and closed eyes in the glass, his exposed perfect ass under the kilt, the way his body takes him in, holds on, adjusts to fit all of him. He stays quiet, letting Priestly control the rhythm.

The pace starts to quicken a few moments later. Priestly’s moving his hips, his whole body getting into the motion, damp palms squeaking against the glass and Walker leans in closer, moves both hands to Priestly’s shoulders, powerful thrusts pressing the side of Priestly's face up against the glass between his spread palms.

“C’mon, Dell,” Priestly pleads against the window, challenge in his voice, “Harder.”

Walker shoves both hands up under the kilt, fingers wrapping around each hip and he pulls Priestly onto him as his own hips snap from behind.

“Fuck yeah,” he says against the glass, “God, you’re so big.”

“Touch yourself...if you need to,” Walker grates out between thrusts.

“Don’t…Need…To” Priestly grunts out each syllable. “Just don’t stop. _Fuck_ you’re hittin’ me just right.”

Walker concentrates to keep the angle the same. He's not going to last much longer himself.

There’s a sharp knock at the door that makes Walker’s heart jump, forgetting for a second that Priestly locked it on their way in.

Almost on cue at the sound, Priestly closes down around him, followed by the sensation of rippling waves squeezing and releasing his cock at lightening speed as Priestly comes hard. Banging a closed fist on the glass of the window. Mouth wide open in a silent yell, eyes shut tight. Cock untouched, shooting heavily onto the red vinyl seat of the chair in milky iridescent swirls.

The undulating grip of Priestly’s internal muscles rips Walker's own orgasm from him, tension gathered in his gut, in his balls, in his shoulders and lower back as he pounds into the beautifully willing man in front of him. It feels like a solid knot of rope coming undone in an instant, liquid fire exploding into the condom, surrounding the head of his cock in another level of heat inside the furnace of Priestly's body, pushing Priestly higher up the window with the force of his last thrust.

He's still twitching, buried inside as Priestly arches back, ass pressed firmly against his groin, straightening up, arms reaching behind Walkers neck, head tipped back against his shoulder, sucking down air. Damp armpits extended to release the musky smell of overtaxed deodorant and sweat. Walker's hands slide under Priestly's shirt, holding him securely, back-to-chest, as his thumbs gently stroke over both nipple rings. Walker knows that Priestly's cock under the kilt’s giving one last, valiant surge at the stimulation and he lets his tongue taste the salty, hot skin of Priestly's neck.

"We should probably free up the room," Priestly admits.

"Do we have to?" Walker whispers against Priestly's skin, lightheaded from the smell and taste of him, disco ball throwing a swirling blizzard of rainbows across Priestly's gorgeous face. Stunning reflection of the two of them locked together staring back from the window.

"Yeah," Priestly seems to be coming back to his senses. "That's what the knock meant." Walker files away his curiosity over Priestly’s seemingly extensive knowledge of the inner workings of this club for later; for a time when he’s not floating in the afterglow of his intense release.

Walker reluctantly nods, running his hands down Priestly's sides, coming to rest on the warm leather of the waistband of the kilt. Priestly leans forward slightly, allowing Walker to slip out, making a contented noise as Walker gently reaches under the bunched up leather and strokes two fingers just inside his entrance,

unable to resist touching him there, feeling how easy it is to slide two fingers right in. The way Priestly lets him, responds with little gasps and deep breaths ending in "Mmmmmm...", makes him feel competent in ways he rarely does. He finally helps Priestly stand, ties off and tosses the condom in a conveniently-placed trash can. Uses a tissue from the box on the windowsill to wipe himself down enough to attempt to wedge his cock back into the pants.

“Should we clean up?” Walker questions, looking at the handprints on the glass and pearly droplets spattered across the vinyl seat of the chair.

“They’ll take care of it,” Priestly tells him. “There are all kinds of regulations about sanitizing.”

Walker raises and eyebrow at that. “You seem pretty familiar with this place,” he observes.

“I told you, it was another lifetime. I might have worked here for awhile when I was rebellious and slightly underage.” Priestly leans in for a kiss and Walker temporarily quiets any other questions he may have.

________________________________________

On the way back down the hall, Priestly slips the employee with the earpiece a few twenty dollar bills.

“What was that for? Room rental fee?” Walker asks playfully once they're out of earshot.

“Um, that was for the knock,” he says.

Walker gives him an uncomprehending expression.

Priestly rolls his eyes. “It’s a bit embarrassing to tell you.”

“Go on,” Walker encourages.

“I have a bit of a thing about getting caught, okay? I knew how long we had the room and I stretched it out just a bit longer than that. On purpose.”

Walker carefully sorts that information into his growing mental file on Priestly, saving it for later.

“I know, I’m a freak,” Priestly fills the silence, slightly defiant edge to his voice.

“I was too turned on to notice,” Walker replies.

Priestly’s blushing slightly when he kisses him. “Thanks for not judging.”

“Are you kidding? That was hot as hell. If I’m judging I’m giving you a ‘10’.”

“Your’re a giant goofball.”

“A satisfied giant goofball.”

“C’mon. I wanna buy my hot boyfriend a drink.” Priestly chooses a table overlooking the dance floor, sound mercifully muffled by the large glass walls.

_Boyfriend._ Priestly’s still throwing the word around like it’s a given. Walker likes the way it feels.

The bourbon cocktail Priestly orders him is sweet and good with a ginger kick. By his third one, Priestly's leaning heavily against him warming his whole left side

as they watch the dance floor below. Commenting here and there on a particularly entertaining display – a good dancer – or couple moving like they’re seconds away from orgasm. Priestly was right. Spread out in front of them is the full gamut of men who love men – younger, older, punk, hairy, leather, men who look like they consider themselves to be straight yet here they are…no one type. No single age or race or shape or size. The mass of humanity moves and flows to the music like one giant, single living organism. Walker's not sure how much time has passed in this other-worldly place where everything feels normal – he’d even call it “comfortable” – with Priestly at his side. It could have been thirty minutes or two hours.

Priestly’s hand scratches lightly at the back of his head, running his fingers up into his hair every now and then. When they kiss, heads turn at the tables around them. Admiring looks. Demure smiles. Knowing expressions. Walker’s nothing if not a quick study.

“People are watching us,” he whispers after their next kiss, pausing to take another drink.

“You okay with that?” Priestly asks earnestly.

Walker doesn’t answer but starts in on an open-mouth makeout session instead. Something he’d never usually consider outside of a bedroom. He lets his right hand travel across his lap, under the flap of the kilt, and Priestly startles in his seat when he drags his fingertips up and down his supple length. Priestly quickly slouches lower, spreading his knees in invitation, pulling back slightly, face reading as open want, pleading “yes” without saying a word.

Walker smiles and goes back to kissing him, deepening the exploration, and he sees him steal a glance at the pairs of eyes following them from the seated couples on either side.

“They’re watching,” he whispers to Priestly, feeling his cock stiffen in his palm. It makes him feel powerful. Knowing this turns Priestly on. Knowing there’s probably a hard on attached to every pair of eyes watching them. Priestly’s gorgeous and Priestly lost in ecstasy is indescribably so. Walker would have thought this was beyond him. That he wouldn’t want to share that with anyone else. But knowing that Priestly only wants it from him, well, he’s starting to understand Priestly’s claim that he wanted to show off his boyfriend a bit.

Priestly’s given himself over to Walker. No requests. No snappy comebacks. He’s trusting him to take care of him – to give him something he needs.

The liquor has loosened Walker up, as well as the fact that no one would ever recognize him here. Anonymity giving him some of the bravery he craves.

“You wanna give ‘em a little show?” he whispers to Priestly. He’s leaking under his kilt now, slicking Walker’s wrist as he strokes him firmly.

“Fuck, Dell,” is all Priestly can manage. Eyes wide. Understanding that Walker gets it. Looking a bit lost with desire, all of his focus drilling into Walker’s gaze. He

feels Priestly’s hand at the back of his neck, nails digging in. Everyone around them can see Walker’s shoulder moving. Knows what’s going on under the table. And instead of turning away, they stare.

Walker keeps his eyes fixed on Priestly. Brushes past his lips with his own, luring him into another kiss. He takes Priestly’s tongue into his mouth, caresses it, sucks

on it, swallows down his small moans of pleasure, switches his grip, speeds up his stroking hand, squeezing tighter under the crown. Stroking him consistently to a full erection. Priestly’s breathing hard into his mouth now, hips rocking minutely on the

bench seat in time with the strokes. “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs against his lips. “I’ve got you. Got everyone up here so fucking turned on with how you look

letting me take care of you…”

Priestly’s eyes close and he smashes his mouth against Walker’s, audible cry not entirely drowned out by the music, and Walker feels the cock in his palm surge,

strain, feels the base convulse as Priestly’s balls empty and come hits the inside of the kilt, painting the leather with slippery release. Nowhere near as much as before, but Walker's still impressed by his quick recovery time.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Priestly keeps whispering against his mouth. “They still-they still watching?” he grits out, eyes closed.

“Yes.” Walker confirms. “All of them.” And he feels a final pulse erupt, everything under the table, under the kilt, a tropical greenhouse of wetness and heat.

Priestly twists to bury his face in Walker’s neck and Walker pulls him in, holding onto him, left arm across the back of his shoulders, letting him drift back and take

as long as he wants.

Walker rests his dripping hand on Priestly’s thigh, stroking slow, reassuring. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. He notices several couples around them get up and move away quickly; some towards the rest rooms, some down the hall. Inspired, no doubt, to release some tension of their own.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Walker says against Priestly’s temple. He feels him swallow, clear his throat, and pick up his head. He searches Walker’s face, incredulous look on his features.

“I can’t believe you gave me that,” he admits. “What happened to my shy cowboy?”

“Wanted to take care of you.” Walker replies as Priestly reaches for some of the cocktail napkins piled in a holder on the table and grimaces as he passes them under the edge.

“Did you ever,” Priestly replies. A thoughtful look crosses his features. “I dunno. It felt safe with you. Giving in like that.”

Walker’s heart feels like it wants to burst free of his chest. Ingrained need for keeping people safe and feeling like he succeeded at doing just that giving him a

feeling of victory.

“Don’t think this is gonna cut it,” Priestly makes a face at the soaked and entirely inadequate paper napkins.

“Yeah, come on,” Walker helps him up, arm around his waist as they head for the bathroom they passed on the way back down the hall. They push the door open to

loud moans coming from inside one of the stalls. “You’re welcome,” Priestly calls out playfully as they pass by, just in time to hear the occupants shout as one comes right after the other. Walker smiles at him, eyebrows raised. “Guess it was a good show,” he surmises. Priestly pulls him into a kiss up against the bathroom counter.

Priestly cleans himself up with a little help from Walker. Turns out he did stash some boxer briefs in a kilt pocket. “Just in case I could talk you into one dance,” he tells Walker by way of explanation.

“Okay,” Walker replies.

“What?!”

“Okay, but make it a slow one,” Walker concedes. He can’t help but love the way Priestly’s eyes light up.

They go back to their table, watching the crowd until the music tempo slows. Priestly looks at him expectantly. _Slow enough?_ Walker nods. Priestly leads him down the stairs and pulls him onto the floor. Lost in a sea of male bodies, Priestly drapes his arms around his neck and Walker pulls him close with arms crossed behind Priestly’s waist.

“Figured I should be the one to dance backwards,” Priestly looks up at him, smiling.

“You figured right,” Walker confirms. “You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet yet.”

“Steel toes,” Priestly replies, glancing down at his boots. “Step on me all you want.”

Walker laughs. He remembers how grade school gym class was always so awkward when they got to the semester with dance. That’s probably where his ingrained dislike of dancing started. Of course everyone was awkward then, but he always hoped they’d be short a girl and he’d be “forced” to have to dance with another guy. He could go along. Pretend he didn’t like it. Never happened. If they were short a girl that day, the guys just had to trade off with the girls who were there. No wonder it never felt right. It felt nothing like this.

Priestly rests his head on Walker’s shoulder as the song nears the end and he lays the side of his face against the shaved hair on the side of Priestly’s head. Walker quickly presses a kiss to the peach fuzz and Priestly looks up at him quizzically. Walker shrugs. “What can I say, you’re fucking irresistible.” Priestly smiles and makes him spin him out at the end of the song, laughing freely.

“One more drink?” Priestly asks.

“Wanna have that back at the hotel instead?” Walker offers.

“I like the way you think,” Priestly replies, taking his hand and leading him out the way they came in.

________________________________________

Priestly’s got his head on Walker’s shoulder, lying in the king bed of the hotel room. Bellies warm from a few rounds of bourbon, bodies clean from a luxuriously long shower in the larger hotel bathroom.

“Sleepy?” Walker asks.

“A bit,” Priestly answer. “Going out with a cowboy that can make me come like a freight train out in public twice in one night will do that to a guy.”

“Mmmmm,” Walker pulls him closer, remembering. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“And by my count, you’re one orgasm down,” Priestly raises his head to look at him with a _how about it?_ expression.

“It’s not a contest,” Walker smiles. “Ask me again in the morning,” He continues, “I liked giving you something you wanted. Was almost as good as getting off myself, seeing you like that.”

“Yeah, about that,” Priestly lays his head back down and speaks against Walker’s chest. “Never thought you’d be up for…most of that.”

“You mean dancing?”

Priestly gives him a playful shove. “You know what I mean. Not the dancing.”

“I guarantee you I was definitely ‘up’.”

“Yeah, couldn’t have hidden it if you wanted to,” Priestly smiles.

“Not in those pants,” Walker chuckles. He only promised one night in them…but he’s definitely keeping the clothes Priestly bought him.

They lie there in silence for another minute.

“How’d you know looking different would make it easier for me to let go like that?” Walker asks.

“Lucky guess,” Priestly admits. “You know…your job…you’ve got an image…people expect you to be a certain way. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

“I thought I was going out tonight for you,” Walker admits. “Turns out it wasn’t just for you.”

“Good,” Priestly replies. “Thanks for trusting me tonight,” Priestly stretches up to kiss him.

“Thanks for trusting me too.” Walker weighs his next question for a minute, wondering if he should bring it up, but it’s tugging at his brain. “Can I ask you something?” he approaches his next statement carefully.

“Go for it.” Priestly invites.

“Anything you wanna tell me about your ‘other life’?”

“Not really that much to tell,” Priestly offers. “I was seventeen. I got a fake ID that said I was eighteen. I got a job there during the summer; lived in an apartment with a few guys. I just wanted to get out on my own for awhile.”

Walker’s a bit apprehensive asking. “What kind of job?”

“Even faking eighteen, I was still too young to bartend at first – they let me later, even before I was 21, just because I used to watch the bartenders up in the VIP lounge and I picked up a lot of their techniques.” Priestly pauses. “That and I was good with the customers. I could sell a lot of drinks.”

“But at first?” Walker prompts.

“At first I was the guy in the hallway with the earpiece and, back then, the clipboard.”

“So you…”

“Managed the private rooms.”

“They let you do that at seventeen?!” Walker asks incredulously.

“They thought I was eighteen.”

“Still…that’s not much difference.”

“It was one of the only jobs that didn’t involve serving alcohol or the ability to physically break up a fight.”

“Did you…like the job?”

“Believe me, it’s not as sexy as it sounds,” Priestly sighs and looks up at Walker. “I directed horny guys to rooms, alerted security to keep an eye on the cameras in most of them – but _not_ the one we were in tonight – don’t worry. That one’s truly private. The security monitored the rest of them to make sure there was no abuse once the door closed. And I cleaned up after they guys…finished using the room.”

“You’re right. That’s not sexy.”

“I went through a lot of disposable gloves and disinfectant.”

“So why’d you take the job?”

“I’ve known I was gay since I was eleven. Probably before then.” Priestly rests his head on Walker’s chest. “I thought I should try being around people like myself. It seemed like I’d be pretty safe there.”

“Were you?”

“Most of the time.” Priestly reassures him. “I learned there are a lot of gay guys who are decent, and some who are predatory assholes.”

Walker feels his gut tense instinctively. “Did anyone hurt you?” He has to ask, even though he doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer.

“No, no one ever hurt me. Learned how to defend myself though. There were some guys who did _not_ want to take ‘no’ for an answer. But anyone who thought they could manipulate me had another thing coming.” ~~~~

“They taught you to fight there?”

“I was raised by hippies,” Priestly reminds him. “They only ever raised a fist to give a peace sign,” he smiles to himself. “I didn’t know the first thing about self defense. The bouncers looked out for me. Taught me the basics.” He’s quiet for a minute as if thinking back on that time. “Actually it _was_ a pretty safe place to learn some important things. Gave me lots of confidence.”

“Doesn’t sound all bad,” Walker comments.

“It wasn’t.” Priestly confirms, yawning loudly against Walker’s chest. “Sorry, I don’t wanna fall asleep on you.”

“I’d love to have you fall asleep on me,” Walker strokes his fingers down Priestly’s back as he settles in close against him. “I had a great time tonight,” he says quietly.

“Me too,” Priestly replies. Words slurring slightly with the falling curtain of sleep. Soon he’s relaxed and snoring softly.

Something feels different as Priestly falls asleep against him. As he drifts off himself, he’s surrounded by a calm he's never felt before. His brain is blissfully uncluttered. He was able to give Priestly something he needed and let himself have something he desperately wanted too, and it felt unquestionably right. It didn’t matter that they were in public. It had been an undeniable turn on and he didn’t stop himself, didn’t let his fear of what other people thought get in the way. It was okay, even expected in that place. He took care of his body, took care of Priestly, felt free to be exactly who he was, outside the privacy of a hotel room. Even though, he didn’t completely recognize himself when he caught his own reflection in the glass at the club, and in spite of the unfamiliar clothes and clean shaven face, it seemed like he was looking at some part of his real self. Priestly knew all along. Knew somehow that the invisible bonds restricting his brain, his body, his sexuality all his life would be loosened tonight. He feels closer to the man sleeping next to him than ever. Peaceful. Content. Free.

________________________________________

The next morning it’s back in the uniform for his last day in court. But this time, Walker leaves a little extra time before he has to leave.

Priestly watches him from their bed. Warm, sleep-tousled hair, wearing only pajama bottoms, he looks like some kind of sprawled-out fantasy.

_Their bed._ Walker’s brain supplies the description automatically.

“There was something you wanted me to ask you this morning, as I recall…” Priestly looks him up and down in his Ranger uniforms. Eyes dark. No mistaking that look.

“Still like the uniform?” Walker asks, voice low and hopeful.

“Fuck yeah,” Priestly pauses. “Officer.” Lying on his back, he looks up at Walker. “Hmmmm…I think I might’ve engaged in some lewd public acts last night.” He licks his lips. “You gonna write me up?”

“We don’t really ‘write people up’,” Walker smiles.

Priestly rolls his eyes. “Could you just shut up and play along?”

Walker nods. Clearing his throat in mock seriousness. “Okay, then, Mr. Priestly. It’s ‘Mr. Priestly’, right? I’m afraid I’m going to have to fine you now that you’ve confessed to lewd and lascivious conduct.”

Priestly smiles wickedly. “I dunno, officer. I’m a little short on cash right now. You think we could maybe work something else out?”

“What do you have in mind, Mr. Priestly?”

“Come over here and let me show you. I think maybe I oughta make a full confession.”

Priestly crawls to the edge of the bed on all fours and Walker steps up to meet him.

“Proceed,” Walker directs.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or – “

“Oh my God you did _not_ just say that to me,” Walker groans.

Priestly smirks. “Looks more like a rifle.”

“Fucking Christ,” Walker groans as Priestly’s intentions cause his cock to thicken along his thigh.

Priestly gets up on his knees, hands working Walker’s fly. “Definitely a rifle,” Priestly appraises. He runs his hand up the ridge of hard flesh and Walker curses.

“Fuck, I gotta wear these today,” he warns.

“Don’t worry, officer.” Priestly yanks down Walker’s zipper and shrugs out of his pajama bottoms. Completely naked, on all fours in front of a standing Walker. “I’m very…thorough.”

“We’ll see about that,” Walker’s struggling to hold it together. “It’s a limited time offer, Mr. Priestly,” Walker teases him.

“That so?” Priestly asks. “Then I’d better get to work.” He reaches into Walker’s open fly and quickly pulls him free. Heavy cock standing straight out from the open “V” of his uniform pants.

He can almost see his cock swell in real time as he watches Priestly shift forward, open his mouth and rest the head on his gorgeous lips. He fucking _winks_ before closing down around his width and swallowing him down in one smooth forward surge.

“Oh _FUCK,”_ Walker moans. He can’t take his eyes off Priestly. Full lips stretched wide, smiling around him like he’s enjoying the hell out of _giving._ Hand coming up to gently fondle Walker’s balls through the fabric of his pants.

“Mmmmm…” Priestly hums around him, and he can feel his tongue sliding, unseen, back and forth across his shaft, playing under the head when he pulls back, pausing to work over the slit. Walker’s been on the giving end of blow jobs more than the receiving end, but _holy fuck_ , Priestly’s servicing him like a master.

Priestly lets him pull back, rock forward, he turns slightly so Walker can watch the head of his cock poke out the side of his cheek for a second before re-directing him straight down his throat. It’s so fucking dirty and so fucking hot.

Walker notices that Priestly carefully keeps his lips about an inch from the base…not like many guys could take him all the way anyway, but it spares Walker’s pants any fluid, spit or otherwise.

When one of Priestly’s hands disappears underneath him, Walker knows he’s getting himself off and that knowledge breaks the last seal. He grips Priestly’s hair tightly right as he does this _thing_ with his tongue. Grunting as he does it, shoulder working furiously on his own cock underneath him.

Walker feels the tension snap. Like a gunshot he goes off forcefully, pulse after pulse, Priestly sucking down every drop, lips coated white with the extra he can’t contain in his mouth and he pulls off for a second with a cry, coming hard onto the bed, knees spread wide.

Walker’s groans as his semi-hard cock gives one more surge at the stunning sight and Priestly hears him, quickly getting his lips back around the crown, sucking carefully, not a single drop on the pants.

He gently pulls Priestly’s head back by his hair, and Priestly opens up, come all over his tongue right there for Walker to see and _fuck_. He reaches under Priestly’s biceps and hauls him up for a kiss. Priestly's careful not to touch him at all with his slippery hand and it threatens to rob his brain of all coherent thought; Priestly on his knees for him. Zero shame because there’s nothing to be ashamed _of_.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” Walker asks, swallowing the taste of himself licked from Priestly’s tongue.

“Whatever you want,” Priestly grins. “Officer.”

It was a very long day in court that day.

________________________________________

Walker gets a text around noon.

Walker’s stunned into silence for a minute.

Priestly texts him the address.

________________________________________

Walker always brings one extra uniform beyond what he’ll need. Just in case something happens on a trip. He always wants to look professional. He showers at the hotel and runs an iron over his backup, uniform, rubs a polishing cloth over his boots and a brush over his hat. He’s more nervous now than he was the last time he had to dress for an official Ranger awards ceremony. He always wants to make a good impression when he’s representing the Rangers, but this goes far beyond that. These are the people most important to Priestly. What if he says the wrong thing or fucks something up? He doesn’t even _try_ to examine why he cares so much about how things go tonight, but he cares immensely. He grabs his carry on and throws in a clean pair of jeans and a Henley. He shaves carefully, trimming the day’s growth close and slaps on some aftershave. He fastens on the expensive watch his dad gave him when he made the Rangers. Wipes a smudge off his badge.

He takes out his phone for directions. He follows the app to just outside of downtown and several turns later he’s standing in front of a small sage green stucco ranch with red Spanish tile roof next to some kind of large warehouse building. There’s a neat little patio and garden in the front and he can see a privacy fence along the side leading to the back yard. The idea of Priestly living somewhere…living _here…_ when all they’ve done so far is meet in bars and hotels and places where he works is somehow suddenly terrifyingly intimate in spite of all they’ve done together.

He takes a deep breath and rings the bell.

Priestly swings the door open, apron tied around his waist below his t-shirt emblazoned with “Don’t Act Like You’re Not Impressed”, hair pulled into a black, high, looped ponytail at the back of his head, a few escaped strands frame his face, eyeliner softened over the hours of the day to a wider smoky smudge. He’s toting a little girl with silky red hair and green eyes on his hip. He looks downright domestic. Walker’s never seen a version of Priestly he’s not intensely attracted to and this is no exception.

Priestly’s face relaxes the second he lays eyes on Walker. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, voice full of warmth and more than a little heat that always seems to be there when their eyes meet. Walker rips his gaze away from Priestly’s face with some effort in time to see the little girl drop her teddy bear, mouth falling open in shock as she looks up at Walker’s full height. She tugs on Priestly’s t-shirt. “What is it, sweetie?” he asks. She points at Walker, tilting her neck up to see every inch of him. “It’s Woody,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s so tall.”

Walker raises his eyebrows.

“Woody from Toy Story,” Priestly explains. “She’s a big fan.” Now it’s Priestly’s turn to clear his throat. “Sparrow, this is my cowboy, Walker.”

Walker gets down on one knee which puts his face close to Row’s level. Now she has to look down at him ever-so-slightly from her perch on Priestly’s hip. He takes off his hat and holds it over his heart. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Sparrow.”

Sparrow giggles and hides her face in Priestly’s chest, overcome with shyness.

“This won’t last,” Priestly promises. “She’ll be back to raising hell after you’ve been here all of about fifteen minutes.”

“HEY! I thought I heard the – “ A tall, beautiful, athletic-looking woman in a tank top and frayed jeans with long dark hair, green eyes, full lips, and prominent cheekbones skids to a stop in the hallway.

Walker gets off his knees and holds out his hand. “You must be Sam,” he says.

“And you must be the guy making my brother smile so much,” she says knowingly.

She reaches for his hand as he introduces himself. “I’m Walker. I’m really happy to meet you.”

“Is everyone in Texas this formal?” Sam asks. “Can I just hug you?”

Walker’s surprised expression must be showing because Priestly’s giving him that look that says ‘it’s okay – relax already’. He holds his arms open and Sam presses against him, squeezing him tightly.

“I wanna cowboy hug!” Row shouts unexpectedly.

“Well get in here then,” Walker holds one arm open to Row and Priestly and soon his arms are filled with Priestly’s entire household. While Row squeals as he tightens his arms around her, Priestly stretches up and gives him a quick kiss on the neck. Eyes even warmer, if that’s possible.

“Alright, alright, break it up,” Priestly says with mock authority. “I haven’t been working my butt off cooking all day just to let it get cold.”

_‘All day?’_ Walker mouths silently at Sam and she nods in confirmation, getting close to Walker once Priestly and Row have disappeared into the next room to say, “He kicked me out of the kitchen hours ago and I haven’t seen him since.”

The next room turns out to be the kitchen. Small but airy with a breakfast island and some of what would be counter space consumed by a professional-looking six-burner stove, dishes stacked next to the sink. “Looks like you could use a dishwasher,” Walker observes, voice conveying all kinds of innuendo about the last time he washed dishes with Priestly in New Mexico.

Sam doesn’t miss a thing and looks back and forth between them. “You think you guys can make through a few hours of family time?” she asks, smirk on her lips. “I promise, once Row goes to bed, you’re free to ‘wash dishes’ all night if you want.” She chuckles as she grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet and heads out the sliding glass door, Row trailing after her carrying the bundle of forks and napkins Sam entrusted her with.

“You _told_ her???” Walker hisses at Priestly when she’s gone.

“Not…everything,” Priestly defers.

“Sounds like you told her enough to guess the rest,” Walker chides him.

“We’re close,” Priestly says. “She’s glad I’m happy and won’t let me rest until she gets some details. Don’t worry, I do keep _some_ secrets.”

“Sorry, it’s just…my brother and I would never talk about stuff like that.” Walker pauses. “But I’m really glad you can with Sam.”

“Me too,” Priestly agrees. “Now unless you want to get BBQ sauce on your uniform, I suggest – “

“You made BBQ?”

“Texas, yes.”

“Say no more.” Walker strides to his bag. “Um, where should I?”

“My room’s down the hall to the left,” Priestly directs him. “We’ll be out back.”

________________________________________

Walker finds Priestly’s room easily enough. The only one with the door closed. The glitter-covered paper clouds on a purple door clearly belong to Row, practical white board for messages and schedules on the room that must be Sam’s. It feels weird to be in here without him in spite of the invitation. Standing in his space, Walker’s determined not to investigate anything or invade Priestly’s privacy in any way, but even looking around at what’s visible to the naked eye, he’s surprised. It’s neat. Orderly. Bed made in an almost military way with the blanket pulled tight. It looks to only be a full-sized mattress – actually, almost everything he can see in the room is practical. Nothing takes up more space than necessary. Like Priestly only allows himself what he needs and not much else. No TV. That’s not a surprise with what he’s learned about Priestly’s lack of TV habits. Vinyl record player and a pair of corded headphones on one bedside table. He glances at the record. Zeppelin. The décor is peaceful in blue and gray. Neutral. Minimal adornment unlike Priestly himself. Three doors of a large built-in closet across one wall take up most of the valuable floor space and even though he’s dying to peek inside, he doesn’t. There’s a phone charging stand on the windowsill and a pad of paper next to it with a single pen. He smiles as he sees Priestly’s backpack sitting dead center on the bed. A promise for later.

Walker quickly changes from his uniform, carefully hanging it on the hanger he brought with him and hooking it over the top of the door. He decides his hat will be safest on the pristine bed and lays it carefully alongside the backpack. Happily ensconced in his jeans and Henley, he slides his boots back on and walks over to the pad of paper.

________________________________________

When he exits the sliding glass door onto the walled-in back patio, he can’t help but notice it’s the opposite of Priestly’s room. Colorful painted privacy fence and tiers of cascading, vibrant flowers interspersed with the interesting textures of cacti in high flower boxes out of Row’s reach. Walker notices Sam give him a clear once-over and she smiles at Priestly, eyebrow raised, in some kind of silent sibling exchange that makes Priestly blush. Walker probably doesn’t want to know.

“It’s beautiful out here,” he compliments.

Priestly nods in Sam’s direction. “This is all her,” he credits. “I get to enjoy it, but she does all the work. It’s small, but it’s our escape.”

Sam clears her throat, “It’s my therapy,” she adds. “It's like meditation out here when I get into working on the flowerbeds.” She shoots a glance in Row’s direction. She’s currently playing with Legos on a low table against one wall. “ _Some people_ can make things a bit crazy around here,” she smiles when Row looks up at her then gets back to work, apparently completely at ease with Walker joining the party. “This is where I go to get away.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” Priestly redirects Walker’s attention, taking the foil off of several platters laid out on the wooden table.

Walker’s mouth waters. Sliced brisket and ribs slathered in BBQ sauce. Chicken rubbed with seasoning. Cole Slaw. Mac and cheese. A greens-and-fruit tossed salad. Some type of freshly-baked bread. Solid smell of smoke wafting over the patio from the shimmering hot air above the grill in the corner. “Dessert’s still inside,” Priestly adds. “So, save room.”

“You did all of this _today?”_ Walker asks in amazement.

“Since noon, yeah,” Priestly answers, like it’s no big deal.

“He’s pretty awesome,” Sam praises him. “The kitchen’s his domain. I get to enjoy everything he does there, but it’s all him.”

“You sure you’ve never been to Texas?” Walker asks in awe. “Because this all looks like it came straight outta Austin.”

“I wanted to do something to make you feel at home…here,” Priestly says, voice hopeful. Inviting. Magnetic.

“Everything looks perfect.” Walker appraises the spread with complete honesty. Suddenly, there’s a tug on the leg of his jeans and Row is next to him, holding up what looks like a tiny brown Lego table with a tall pillar at one end and a rectangular block offset on top of the pillar. Walker smiles at her. “Did you make that for me?” he asks.

“I made Cowboy Woody a horse,” she proclaims.

“Now kiddo,” Priestly says seriously and Row turns her heads towards his commanding voice, “You know that’s not my cowboy’s name.”

Walker feels warm every time he hears Priestly say "my cowboy".

Row wrinkles her brow, her green eyes close in concentration, trying to remember.

“Cowboy Walkee?” she says hopefully.

“You know what?” Walker leans down to make his height less intimidating. “It’s okay with me if you want to call me ‘Woody’ and this horse is _beautiful_.

“He’s ‘Bullseye,” she explain in an official tone.

Walker looks briefly to Priestly. “From the movie,” he explains.

Walker turns back to Row, “How’d you know I needed a horse?” he asks.

“ ‘Cause you walked here,” she said, then, like a light goes off, “WALKER!” she exclaims.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Priestly praises her. “We call people by the names they want us to call them by.”

Walker winks at Priestly, “Then I choose ‘Woody’,” he says. Row instantly looks towards Priestly for permission.

“You heard the man,” Priestly says. “Can’t say he chooses _well_ , but it’s his choice.”

“You wanna come make a horse with me, Cowboy Woody?” she asks.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam pats the booster seat next to her. “Your Duncle B worked hard cooking today. We’re gonna eat first.”

Walker files away his questions about Row’s nickname for Priestly for another time.

“Pig lollypop, please,” Row says, reaching for a paper plate.

“What?” Walker laughs.

“It’s what I told her pork ribs were,” Priestly rolls his eyes. “Gets her to eat them. She thinks they’re candy.”

“We want her to know where her food comes from,” Sam adds.

They fill their plates, clear them, and fill them again. The chicken is tender, the rub carrying a heat and complexity that breaks through the smoked meat. The pork ribs fall of the bone and the sliced brisket is rich and complex; sticky sweet BBQ sauce over everything keeps everyone reaching for more napkins. Walker’s surprised at the jalapeno bite in the cool coleslaw – loving the contrast instantly. Putting out the fire in his mouth with some creamy macaroni and cheese and clearing his taste buds for the next round with a slice of warm, crusty bread. The beers keep coming and Sam sips a glass of white wine with ice in it “Don’t even lecture me about ice in my wine,” she rolls her eyes at her brother before he can say anything. 

The evening turns to dusk, the sky shifting seamlessly from clear blue to pastel, making everything feel soft and welcoming. The air’s comfortable, unlike the oppressive humidity of Texas. Sam gets up to plug in the string of white lights hanging along the top of the privacy fence, casting a warm glow on everyone around the table. When Sam takes Row inside to wash her sticky BBQ hands, Walker tries not to stare as Priestly licks sauce from his fingers in a way that Walker’s pretty damn sure is intentional and not at all family-friendly.

“This is all amazing,” Walker tells him when there’s alone for a minute. “I’ve never had better.”

“Oh, come on,” Priestly protests. “You’re just saying that. You’re _from_ Texas, for God’s sake.”

“I swear it’s the truth.“ Walker leans back and lays a hand on his full stomach. “Seriously, everything was perfect. You really know your stuff. Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“You’ll have to stick around. Find out,” Priestly challenges.

“I’d like to,” Walker answers honestly. And as they sit across the table from each other it’s like he can feel it – the air charged and alive with something stretching between them and it makes no rational sense. And all he wants is –

“Pie!” Sam calls out as she re-emerges from the house with Row on her heels. She’s got a pie plate balanced on each palm.

“Pie parade!” Row shouts, marching behind Sam, gripping a new round of clean silverware in her small fist with focused determination until she reaches up to lay the pile gently on the table.

With the rest of the family back on the patio, the electricity between them stays, but lowers to a simmer. Sam sets the pies down with a flourish. They look like bakery creations.

“This one’s apple,” Sam points to a double-crust pie with 5-pointed star cutouts in the top crust, top a good three inches above the edge of the pie plate. Golden tan and smelling of cinnamon. “And this one’s for the grownups,” she winks at Walker. “Bourbon pecan. What can I get you?” she asks.

Walker catches Priestly’s eyes on him. “One of both,” Walker requests. “Heavy on the pecan, please.” Priestly smiles like he knew he guessed right when deciding what to bake.

Walker switches to water and coffee. He can’t remember ever having had a better meal. When Row’s eyes start to get heavy, Sam proclaims that it’s bedtime and carries her inside for pajamas and tooth brushing.

“She’s a great mom, just like you said.” Walker follows Sam’s retreating form until she closes the sliding door behind her. He hears a chair scrape the stone of the patio and the next thing he feels are Priestly’s fingers on his scalp, tugging his head back for a coffee and brown sugar bourbon kiss and that’s all it takes for the fire to roar back to life. Walker reaches his hands up to touch Priestly face, to keep their lips locked together.

Priestly pulls back suddenly, breathing in deeply. “Row’s gonna insist on a story, but I promise to make it a short one…then we are taking this back to your place.”

“But…the dishes…” Walker trails off.

“Sam can load a dishwasher,” Priestly insists. “She insisted it’s her contribution to dinner. She wants us to have…some time together.”

“She does?”

“She likes you.” Priestly informs him. “Even more, she likes the way I am around you.”

“She told you that?”

“Yeah, when you went to change.”

“You don’t know how bad I want you right now.” Walker whispers.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do.” Priestly’s eyes bore into his, desire right on the surface.

Sam knocks quietly on the glass of the sliding door before interrupting them. Priestly doesn’t unwrap is fingers from Walker’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he leans back into it. “You two are fucking adorable,” she proclaims. “She’d really love a story, but I’ll fill in if you guys want to get out of here.”

Walker can hardly comprehend a family member encouraging them to go do what they clearly both want to do, but Sam’s smiling warmly at him and offering to take on Priestly’s responsibilities so they can have more time together. He feels himself getting a little choked up, moved by her selfless generosity. “No, I don’t want to get in the way of the family routine,” he pledges, and he’s completely sincere when he says it.

“Good,” Sam replies, “because she asked for Cowboy Woody too.”

“She did?” Walker and Priestly ask almost in unison.  
  


“She sure did. Looks like you’ve got some competition, bro,” she smiles warmly at Priestly. She looks down at Walker, “Looks like you’re in.”

Priestly slings an arm around his waist as they walk inside. It feels so normal, this casual affection, the casual touching. Not hidden. Or in the type of bar where it’s expected. Normal house. Normal family. Walker reflexively puts and arm across Priestly’s shoulder, loving that here, he _can_.

“She’s probably going to want a cowboy story,” Priestly predicts, so Walker ducks into Priestly’s room to grab his hat for effect. They crowd onto Row’s bed. Of course, she wants a cowboy story. She insists Walker start and wants Priestly to finish. She watches Walker with such rapt attention, like he’s one of her heroes come to life. He lays the drawl on a bit thick and Priestly laughs, watching him get into the story. “Now you,” Row insists, and Walker passes the book to Priestly for the big finale where the cowboy returns the lost calf to its mother.

Row’s eyes are getting heavy, and Walker tries to get up silently, but the bed creaks. She looks up at him. “Are you going to sleep over?” she asks sleepily.

“No sweetheart,” Priestly answers for him. “Not this time. I’m going to go sleep over with Walker at the hotel. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She snuggles up against Priestly, “Don’t go yet, ‘kay?” she mumbles.

Priestly looks up at Walker with a pleading expression, clearly torn between what he wants and what Row wants. It’s just about the sweetest thing Walker’s ever seen. “I’ll go get my uniform and wait in the living room,” Walker whispers. Then, even more quietly, “We have all night.”

Priestly’s heated expression makes him wonder if all night is going to be anywhere near enough.

He quietly leaves the room and gathers his clothes from the back of Priestly’s door.

True to her word, Sam’s just finishing up the dishes as Walker carefully lays his uniform over the back of the couch. She smiles at him and gestures to the counter where Row’s brown Lego horse stands on uneven legs. “Don’t forget to take your horse with you,” she instructs him. “She’d be crushed if you left it.”

“I’m definitely not leaving it,” he confirms. “Can I help you?”

“No, I’m just finishing up. Your timing is perfect,” she teases him.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid – “

“I’m just kidding. You two about to head out?”

“Row wanted Priestly to stay with her a bit longer. But yeah, then we’ll probably head out. If it’s okay.”

“My brother’s been flyin’ high all day looking forward to tonight. It’s more than okay.” Walker still can’t quite believe how encouraging she is. “And thanks for helping put Row to bed.”

“I’m flattered she wanted me to read to her. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Half sweetheart half devil,” Sam chuckles. “Glad you got to witness the sweetheart side tonight.”

“Thank you for everything, for having me over. You went to a lot of trouble.”

“My brother likes you,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’m can see why.” She dries her hand on a dishtowel, stack of pots and pans air-drying in the rack. “Can I speak freely?”

Walker’s stomach tightens around the pie. “Sure.”

“I’m not asking about any kind of long-term plan, and Boz would be pissed if he knew I was saying this at all, but,” she wrinkles her brow, “just promise _me_ you’re not going to hurt him, okay?”

Walker leans forward on his knees. “That is the last thing I would ever want to do.” Sam looks like she wants to say more. “Go on,” he encourages.

Sam glances down the hall to make sure Priestly’s not about to walk into the room. “It’s just, well, I know that you know we lost a lot. It’s taken a long time and a lot of work to get where we are. It’s not perfect, but it’s good and I know Boz seems like he’s indestructible but, well, he’s not.”

“No one is.”

“I know. Just…it’s just been him and me for a long time.”

“I’m not trying to take him away.”

“Oh God, no, I don’t think that at all. If anything he deserves a break from this nut house more than anyone,” she smiles. “I guess I’m trying to say that me and him, we’re solid. We’re good. He can trust me. I need to know that he can trust you too.”

“He can.”

Sam nods but doesn’t look entirely convinced. She shakes her head slightly. “Hey, I’m sorry for the third degree. I bet you’re usually the one _doing_ the interrogating.”

Walker smiles. “Usually,” he confirms.

“Hey, we ready to roll?” Priestly strides into the room, bag over his shoulder. “Let’s blow this taco stand.” He walks over to Sam and gives her a one-armed hug and a quick kiss on the side of her head. “You sure you got the morning covered?” he asks.

“Easy peasy,” she replies. “You boys go have fun and try to get _some_ sleep. Row wants another driving lesson tomorrow when you get back.”

“Driving?” Walker asks.

“It’s what we call her bike with training wheels – I’m giving her driving lessons.”

“That’s adorable.” Walker grins at Priestly.

“Whatever.” Priestly blows off his comment. “Okay sis, see you tomorrow. Thank you _so much_ for cleaning up.”

“Get out of here,” she smiles, giving Priestly a playful shove.

“Thanks, Sam,” Walker comes around the breakfast bar to Sam’s side, “for everything.”

She walks up to him for a hug and he wraps her in his arms. “Take good care of him,” she whispers as she squeezes him. Walker squeezes back to let her know he heard her.

Priestly’s phone goes off as the Uber driver messages them from the front of the house.

Walker slips Row’s modern art version of a horse into his pocket as he leaves.

________________________________________

The driver doesn’t seem to care that they’re making out like teenagers in the back so Walker decides not to worry about it either.

Priestly has him up against the wall in the elevator, doesn’t want to lose contact when they get to their floor and keeps kissing him, walking backwards, as they fumble towards the door. Walker struggles to keep hold of his bag and uniform.

The hat comes off first, then the clothes start dropping as soon as they’re inside the suite. It’s a scramble of buttons and zippers and shoes being yanked off, until Walker’s naked, Priestly’s wearing only jeans, the anticipation crackling between them all night finally breaking free. Priestly pulls him towards the bedroom, then right past the bed towards the bathroom. “I really wanna fuck you tonight,” Priestly informs him. “You good with that?”

“I’m definitely good with that.” Walker’s not going to say no with that intensity in Priestly’s voice. As they pass through the bedroom, Walker asks, confused, “Not gonna use the _bed?”_

“Nope.” Priestly answers curtly as he pulls him into the bathroom.

“Shower first?”

“Nope.” Priestly’s kissing him up against the counter. Suddenly he steps back and turns Walker to face the sink.

“Right here,” he says, soft glow from the edge-lighting around the mirror softening both their features. He watches Priestly’s reflection as he sucks two fingers into his mouth.

"But I wanna see you," Walker protests, then catches himself with his arms on the edge of the counter as he feels Priestly’s spit-slicked fingers circling his entrance. “ _Fuck,_ ” he curses as Priestly fingers start pressing in. He’s not wasting any time.

"You will. “ Priestly promises. “In the mirror.”

“But why – “ It’s getting harder to form words with Priestly skilled fingers stroking him.

“You like watching other guys enjoying themselves - "

"Not watching like _that_...just like seeing them happy." Walker tries to explain himself.

"Well, we're both gonna watch you enjoying yourself tonight."

"You want me to watch _myself_?" and even Walker can hear the slight edge of panic in his voice.

"I want you," Priestly's free hand slides around his waist, moving lower, strong grip encircling his already-hard cock with some much-needed pressure, "to see you the way I see you."

“I’d rather look at you,” Walker insists.

“Trust me, Dell,” and there’s not much else he can do with Priestly’s fingers in his ass and his fist around his cock, working him from the front and the back and he just wants to feel more of Priestly inside of him, so he uses his arms to shove back until he’s taken Priestly’s fingers as deep as he can, eyes falling closed automatically at the incredible sensation of fullness. One hand leaves the counter and reaches instinctively for any part of Priestly he can touch, landing to wrap around one hip.

"Look at me," Priestly demands. Walker pries his eyes open and, okay, yeah, the soft lighting does make everything look airbrushed. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he’s got his lips close to Walker’s ear. “Fucking porn star cock – my hand doesn’t even cover it all the way.” He’s stroking him firmly, slowly, exquisitely. “So hot inside,” and he feels Priestly add a third finger. “I mean, fuck, look at those arms on you.” Priestly’s eyes flicker to Walker’s biceps and travel down the roped muscles of his forearms in the mirror. “Love feeling those hands on me.” Walker squeezes his grip around Priestly’s upper thigh. “Can’t look at those hands without thinking about how big your cock is. So fucking turned on by your hands,” he confesses. “Love it when you start to let go,” and Priestly withdraws his fingers, “when your hair falls in your eyes and you look like some kind of wet dream,” and Walker doesn’t think he’s ever heard Priestly speak this many words during sex…definitely not about _him_ and his brain’s first instinct is to resist, to defer, but Priestly’s voice washing over him feels as good as his hands working over his body and it’s making heat spark in his chest…so much praise all at once. It’s overwhelming.

“I just don’t –“

“Shhh,” Priestly whispers. “Just listen.” And he can do that. He can hang onto Priestly’s words; freed from the obligation of expected modesty and the ingrained idea that he’s nothing extraordinary, unlike the man behind him.

Priestly’s stroking hand leaves his cock for a minute, moving out of view to undo his jeans, condom and single-use pack of lube appearing on the counter. Walker draws in a deep breath when Priestly’s fingers in his ass disappear too as he works quickly to get out of his jeans before reaching for the supplies. Walker feels like he’s going to go out of his mind if Priestly doesn’t get his hands back on him right the hell now. Hard cock leaking and twitching, it takes all the willpower he possesses not to touch himself. Mercifully, Priestly’s hand wraps firmly around him again just when he thinks he can’t take the lack of stimulation any longer. “Gonna fuck you now,” Priestly tells him and somehow, getting _informed_ about what is definitely about to happen makes his cock jump in Priestly’s hand. Priestly doesn’t miss it. “You like getting told what I’m gonna do to you, don’t you?” And he doesn’t have to say a thing, doesn’t have to explain himself, Priestly told him to just listen. So he nods instead.

“Good,” Priestly purrs in his ear. “You might wanna hold onto the counter then, ‘cause you’ve got me so fucking turned on…so fucking hard…I’m about to fuck my very. Hot. Boyfriend into next week.” And Walker does what’s requested, leaning forward, bracing himself.

Priestly’s slick cock pushes at his entrance for a second before sliding right past the ring of muscle, deeper, deeper, until he feels Priestly’s abdomen against his ass. “Oh fuck yeah,” Priestly breathes out heavily, “Gonna fuck this tight ass of yours as long as you need me to; gonna make you come all over yourself,” and all Walker can do is moan and press back harder in a wordless _please_ , letting his head hang down and Priestly’s words flow over him as the thrusts speed up.

“Look,” Priestly prompts him. Walker lifts his head. Arms braced wide on the counter, ass pressed back, Priestly's eyes fixed on his in the mirror, his body fucking into him in fast thrusts, mouth open slightly brow furrowed with effort. "Not at me," Priestly directs and Walker meets his own eyes in the mirror. Lets Priestly's voice continue to pour over him. "Love it when you look like this." Walker sees the pleading look on his face. "Like you're asking me for something without saying anything." Then Priestly hits that spot inside of him and the wave of pleasure automatically relaxes his forehead. "Then I give it to you and you look like it feels so good."

"It...does - "

Priestly smiles behind him, "Fucking right it does." He speeds up the pace and Walker moans with the increased frantic stroking inside of him.

"Yeah, that's it," Priestly praises. "You drive me crazy." Priestly's setting up an unrelenting rhythm Walker can count on, like a machine, and the consistent, dependable accuracy of his cock hitting that same elusive spot inside of him takes him higher and higher. "I can feel you getting closer. Getting so fucking tight around me. All those muscles in your arms, so fucking strong.” Priestly sucks down a deep breath to fuel his words. “All that strength and there’s nothing you can do but let me fuck you as hard as I want,” and Priestly’s not holding anything back, sweat beading on his brow. Walker hardly recognizes himself; eyes almost black with lust, flush spreading across his chest, thick cock challenging Priestly’s grip.

“And you’re gonna have to go first because I can go all night, Cowboy.”

“ _AH!!!_ ” Walker cries out, determined to follow instructions…to _not_ look away, eyes flicking back and forth from his own face to Priestly’s reflection. Priestly’s drilling him so deep, _so good_.

“Let go, Dell. Let go however you need to,” Priestly demands and Walker starts working his arms, fucking himself back as hard as he can on Priestly’s plunging cock. Grunting with the force of every thrust. He’s never this loud, but the sounds are clawing their way out from someplace deep inside him. “That’s it,” Priestly grates out, “Come on,” he encourages and Walker can’t hold on any longer; the heat, the praise, Priestly’s intense focus, it overtakes him. Neck arching against the force of the shout that tears from his throat. He never takes his gaze off the mirror as he watches it all pour out of him; come splattering his chest in the reflection, sweat rolling down his neck, diluting the release streaking his chest as he white-knuckles the counter, gasping, probably pleading, he doesn’t even know anymore, begging Priestly to take him apart, to not stop, and he’s still coming, letting go of shame and doubt along with the fluid spilling from his cock and over Priestly’s hand until finally he sags forward on his burning arms. He feels Priestly shove forcefully into him, wrap his arms around his waist, and collapse against his back as his hips work like pistons in sharp fast thrusts. He gasps against his sweat-slicked skin, holding on tight, swearing as he comes long and hard.

They’re nothing but a heap of heaving breaths and quivering muscles and no one’s more surprised than Walker to lift his head and find tears on his cheeks.

When Priestly raises his eyes, his look turns immediately to one of concern, “Oh God, I didn’t hurt you, did it I?”

“No,” Walker gasps out what sounds to his own ears like a half-sob. “You told me to let go.”

Priestly, still buried deep inside him, lets out a hugely relieved breath and hugs him tightly for a moment. “Hey, It’s okay, I got you.” He peels his body up and off, stroking down Walker’s back as he does. He slowly withdraws, holding the base of the condom, quickly removing and tossing it. “C’mere,” he says, carefully turning Walker to face him, as gentle now as he was forceful minutes ago. He puts an arm around Walker’s waist and maneuvers their sweaty, sticky bodies the few steps out to the bedroom, throwing back the top blanket and gesturing for Walker to get in. He does without question. Priestly climbs in after him, opens his arms, and Walker lays his body down Priestly’s side, the reverse of their sleeping arrangement of the past few nights. Priestly wraps his arms around him and Walker lays his head on Priestly’s chest. It’s so weird to feel this vulnerable. To have let go to that degree. He feels almost empty, totally spent. Priestly silently cinches his arms down securely around him, kissing his hair.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out when he opens his eyes and tentatively moves a leg that’s fallen asleep. “Welcome back,” Priestly rumbles.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“About midnight,” Priestly replies.

“Did you sleep?”

“No.”

“Why’d you let me sleep?”

“ ‘Cause you needed it.”

“Thank you.” Walker lifts his head to look at Priestly in the dark of the room, gorgeous profile barely visible in the thin streetlight filtering in from outside.

“For what?” Priestly looks back at him, warm eyes, full lips.

“For,” Walker searches for the word he needs, “um, making me feel safe,” and it feels raw and strange admitting that he, the one who always keeps everyone else safe, might, somewhere deep down, crave some safety of his own.

“You’re welcome,” Priestly doesn’t question him further, somehow seems to know that just saying that was hard enough for him. He stretches to kiss him softly. “You wanna get ready for bed now?”

“I’d like that.” Walker replies between kisses.

________________________________________

They wake up the next morning in what’s quickly become their usual position, Priestly pressed against Walker’s side with Walker lying on his back.

Priestly opens his eyes to find Walker already looking at him with a wistful expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“Just don’t wanna leave.” Walker admits.

Priestly of course knows this is their last morning together, but his stomach swoops nonetheless with the acknowledgement that the day he tried so hard to ignore has arrived.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he agrees.

“What’re we gonna do?”

Priestly sighs heavily, moves in closer against Walker’s body. “We go back to work. We talk as much as we can. We see what happens.”

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Walker says quietly.

“I know.” Priestly’s realistic. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

Walker stretches his neck, looking up at the ceiling. “This thing between us, it’s fucking addictive.” He turns towards Priestly's chin resting on his shoulder, and Priestly can see the truth on his face.

“It’s totally addictive,” Priestly agrees. “And I really don’t wanna go through withdrawal tonight. Will you call me?”

“Definitely.”

“You hungry?”

They’d gone a long way towards working off the dinner he’d made last night. He’d done pretty well on dinner if he did say so himself. “Starving.”

“I’ve got a couple more hours…is it okay if we just stay here and I’ll order room service?”

Priestly smiles at him. “Breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never done that.”

“Well, get ready then,” Walker smiles and suddenly he’s on top of him, straddling him, kissing his neck, down his bare chest, soft lips around one nipple ring then the other. Wet heat followed by cool hotel room air making his nipples instantly hard.

  
“Thought we were gonna order,” Priestly teases him, suddenly not actually giving a single fuck if they eat right now.

“We will…just thought today I could, you know, help you with your, um, morning _issue_ first _._ It just about killed me to leave yesterday. _”_

_Oh._ “Yeah, it’s a pretty regular thing…in the morning.” He usually wakes up half-hard and Walker on top of him, strong thighs bracketing his own, heat of his sac through their two layers of cotton pants is quickly taking him past the halfway mark.

“Lucky me. I uh, I hear you like my hands?”

“I might’ve said something like that last night, yeah.”

“So it’d be okay then if I did this?” Walker starts stroking him through the fabric.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Priestly groans at the warm, strong palm pressing and releasing against his growing length. “Would it be okay if I lie back and enjoy the fuck out of it?” He laces his fingers behind his head, enjoying Walker’s playful expression and _really_ enjoying what his hands are doing to his cock.

“Off” Walker tugs on his pants and he moves to kneel beside him for a second while Priestly lifts up his ass and lets Walker strip the clothes from his body. “That’s better,” he says as he straddles his hips again, soft cotton of Walker’s pants surrounding his balls.

Priestly’s cock rests heavily on his stomach, small puddle of clear fluid near his navel. Walker reaches up to pull a small packet of lube from the nightstand. _Such a Boy Scout._ Priestly watches in lazy anticipation as he slicks up his palms. He spreads his thighs wider as a warm, slick hand wraps around him, another reaching lower to play with his balls. “Shit, that feels amazing,” he groans, and Walker doesn’t hurry, stroking firmly down and back up his entire length.

“You have the most gorgeous cock,” Walker says, watching his own hands slide up and up down the shaft. “So fucking thick. Feels so incredible when you’re inside me,” and Priestly can hardly believe that this is the shy, reluctant man he met up with in New Mexico. Walker starts to rut against him as he works his cock with an expert hand. ~~~~

It’s like warm honey between his legs; the heat, the slick, the concentration of pleasure. Priestly’s muscles tense, abs contract, then relax again, like the foreshadowing of an orgasm in super-slow motion. Walker takes him to the edge, then backs off for a second, slow, luxurious tension and release over his entire body. He lets himself close his eyes and concentrate on the sensations. It’s so incredibly good. Whenever he opens his eyes, Walker’s studying him, small smile of appreciation on his face. His thighs are getting hotter, trapped between Walker’s straddling legs. Priestly can’t stop his hips from moving, shoving his cock forward and back in Walker’s grasp and he reaches above his head to grab the lower edge of the headboard where it stands away from the wall.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Walker’s voice washes over him. “Got me so fucking hard,” and Priestly gasps in a breath as Walker’s stroking hand disappears.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” he pleads, opening his eyes to see what could have caused those incredible hands to go elsewhere, and watches Walker free his own cock, shove his own waistband down under his balls, and move up on his knees to get them in line so he can…

_Jesus fucking Christ –_ Priestly can’t tear his eyes away as he watches Walker close a hand down around them both at once. Feels the heat of Walker’s shaft in a scorching, hard line against his own and Walker’s so long, the tip of Priestly’s cock bumps up against the underside of Walker’s flared head the sight makes his brain melt. He digs in his heels, holds on tight to the headboard and feels the unstoppable rush from his balls, tension dissolving with the hot gush, and he comes with the head of his cock nestled just under Walker’s…sees the white of his own release spread out under his cowboy’s velvety head in a ring between their cocks and Walker’s fist. It’s mesmerizing and he faintly registers Walker’s, “Goddam, Bo, _fuck_!” and the next thing he feels is a thick shot of come across his chest, the man above him throwing his head back with a gasp as he shoots across his body again. They’re both so turned on that it’s over quickly, acute surge of intensity flowing into deep relaxation.

“Fuck that was hot,” Priestly stares up at a smiling, Walker, full weight of him across his thighs, hand dripping with a mixture of their come.

“Fuck yeah it was.” Walker looks almost smug. “Watching you come around me like that – I couldn’t hold on anymore.”

Priestly’s gaze drags down Walker’s body. He squints. Perfectly-spaced oval fingertip-sized bruises fanning out across his left hip come into focus.

“Looks like I got a little carried away last night,” he says in a roundabout apology.

Walker looks down in surprise. Slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t mind the souvenirs, if that’s what you’re talking about.” He brings his eyes back to Priestly’s. “Are you good? Anything… _else_ I can help you with this morning?”

“I’m more than ‘good’,” Priestly confirms. “I _am_ getting a little hungry though.” He smiles wickedly at Walker and, just because he wants to see his face while he does it, he swipes a finger through the come on his chest and closes his lips around it. Still warm. A bit salty but with a different hint of sweet. _Maybe it’s the pie._ He’s not disappointed. Walker’s eyes narrow with burning intensity and Priestly’s mouth is quickly full of Walker’s tongue.

“God you’re incredible,” Walker says when he comes up for air. “Drive me so fucking crazy.” He moves down Priestly’s neck to just above his shoulder, fastens his lips on one sensitive spot and sucks hard. Priestly inhales deeply and feels his spent cock twitch at the sharp burn.

When Walker pulls back, he looks a bit sheepish. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess. “You tryin’ to leave a mark?” Priestly asks.

Walker’s face reddens. “Sorry, I – “

“You didn’t see me stopping you.”

Walker’s raises an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna love seeing that when I look in the mirror,” Priestly tells him honestly. “Gonna touch it the next time I get myself off.” Walker swallows hard at his words. “It’ll also let anyone else know to back the hell off.” Priestly smiles, getting a clue that this cowboy of his clearly has a bit of a possessive streak. “I mean, I’d tell ‘em myself, but now I don’t have to.”

“How the fucking hell did I get so lucky?” Walker asks, tinge of amazement in his voice.

“Somehow we both did.” Priestly looks back down Walker’s muscled body, appreciating every swell and dip. “Actually, there _is_ something else.”

Walker looks back at him a bit incredulously. “I know I offered, but I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to recover here.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures him. “You don’t have to do a thing. Lie down,” he requests. The heat of Walker’s thighs lifts off, sweat-dampened cotton going with it. He rolls over on his back, curious expression on his face.

Priestly ignores the slippery mess on his own body. He maneuvers down the bed until he’s next to Walker’s hip. Tugs his cotton pants lower, below his ass. Leans in, licks over the first fingertip bruise there and feels Walker’s sharp intake of breath when his tongue makes contact with the colorful skin.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“Doesn’t ‘hurt’, exactly,” Walker replies. “Keep going,” he says, voice a bit breathy and tentative.

Priestly smiles. Thanks to his piercings, he's familiar with how a little bit of sting can go a long way; how sensitivity can heighten things. He gently brings his lips to the surface of the first bruise, then quickly sucks the skin there sharply into his mouth.

Walker’s hip buck off the bed, but Priestly anticipates it and keeps sucking, following his body up and back down when he falls back to the mattress. Releasing the skin, he admires the darker, enhanced circle. The only discoloration on Walker’s powerful body.

“What the fuck was that?” Walker asks, looking down at him, surprised.

“You liked it?” Priestly checks in.

“Yeah, I liked it.”

Priestly grins. “Just making sure the souvenirs last a little longer.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Walker asks.

“What do you mean?”

“There’re three more,” Walker teases. “Wouldn’t want to leave the job half-finished, would you?”

“You cocky sonofabitch,” Priestly scolds him. Determined to make the next one even more intense.

By the time he’s done, there are four perfect, deep purple circles across Walker’s hip. He’s a little surprised to find Walker’s breathing shallow, cock trying valiantly to rise. “Looks like you _really_ didn’t hate that,” he observes.

“Definitely didn’t hate it,” Walker looks at him with need in his eyes.

“Something _else_ I can do for _you?”_ Priestly asks, flirty lilt to his tone.

“Do whatever you want,” Walker breathes out, desperate edge to his voice. “Just do it.”

Priestly takes Walker’s cock in his mouth. Not entirely hard, but definitely not soft. He sucks gently, figuring if Walker liked his mouth on his skin…

Almost immediately, Walker arches his back, one large palm cradles the back of Priestly’s head, and a gentle rivulet of come spreads across his tongue. He swallows and carefully pulls off. “Wow,” he quips. “Twice in one hour. Guess I’m not the only one who likes it in the morning _.”_

“You should copyright that mouth of yours,” Walker groans and does a full-body stretch, tugging Priestly up for a kiss.

________________________________________

They order breakfast. They get cleaned up. Walker takes their food delivery wearing a hotel bathrobe but strips it off the moment the guy leaves and they climb back onto the bed on top of the cleanest blanket, grabbing the extra sheet from the closet and pulling it up around them. Priestly can’t think of anything better than breakfast in bed with this gorgeous man who just took care of his morning wood in spectacular fashion. The setting makes the straightforward scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with orange juice taste like heaven. Walker looks so relaxed. Clearly relishing the food and Priestly keeps catching him smiling at him with this goofy smile. There’s no tension. No awkwardness. Walker stops to push his hair out of his eyes every so often and Priestly thinks it’s fucking adorable. His own fingers itch to reach out and do it for him. He drops a piece of buttery toast face-down on the sheet in his lap when he gets distracted watching Walker’s throat work as he swallows his coffee. He’s not going to think about two hours from now when the undeserving people trudging through the airport will get to enjoy the view of his gorgeous cowboy instead of him.

________________________________________

Priestly sits on the edge of his bed and tugs off his boots. He pulls back the blanket. He tried to spend the last four days living in the moment and had succeeded for the most part, not thinking much about how he was destined to end up here; back in his bed alone _and there’s nothing wrong with that! You had an awesome time with an awesome guy and it’s not over, just long-distance for awhile._ He’s always been pretty good at talking himself down when something threatens to make waves in the decent, dependable life he’s built for himself entirely from the ground up. But there’s a longing now. He can’t ignore it. Every time he sees Walker it just gets stronger. ~~~~

It felt so natural last night. Having Walker in his home. Laughing with Sam and reading to Row. He had been right here in this very room yesterday, and now that he’s already hundreds of miles away, things feel muted. Fizzling out around the edges where everything – every thought, every moment – practically crackled with energy over the past few days.

Priestly peels his t-shirt off over his head and picks up his pillow to adjust it so he can sit in bed and read for awhile. Food safety requirements for the next inspection should put him to sleep in no time and occupy his mind with utterly mundane, completely bland details. Something flutters to the floor when he moves the pillow. What the hell?

He turns over the square of paper that looks like it came from his own notepad.

“You make me feel alive. I miss you already. - Dell

P.S.

Row and Sam are awesome.

P.P.S.

You’re incredible.”

Priestly smiles. _You’re incredible too._

________________________________________

The next time Walker’s at the feed store, he walks through the kids’ section and finds a plastic Breyer horse with the same buckskin coloration that Daisy has. He asks the store if they do shipping. They do. He checks his phone for the address Priestly texted him and the internet helpfully supplies the zip code automatically. He writes out a quick note:

“Miss Sparrow,

You gave me a horse, now I want to give you one. This one looks a lot like my real horse. Her name’s Daisy. I hope you can meet her one day. 

\- Cowboy Woody”

Row’s Lego horse rides in the utility tray on the dash of his truck now.

Priestly rides around in his thoughts 24/7.

________________________________________

Priestly can’t quite believe it when a large box shows up on his doorstep two weeks later. It contains a Styrofoam shipping container, a copious amount of dry ice, four thick steaks, and a note.

“You went all out on dinner when I was there. I know you’ll do something incredible with these for you and Sam. I was told they were a pretty good cut. They’re trying to raise this new breed of cattle here in Texas…I think they originally came from Japan.

\- Your Cowboy”

Priestly gasps out a disbelieving breath. It’s the American version of Kobe beef. About $50 per pound. He can definitely do something with these.


End file.
